


Ash and Blood

by Zaxal



Category: Psych
Genre: Brainwashing, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnotism, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Serial Killers, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4910284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaxal/pseuds/Zaxal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A string of identical murders leads Lassiter down a dark and treacherous path.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Son of a bitch."

He stood over the sixth body in the last month, knowing exactly what he would find once he started cataloging the injuries and the aspects of the crime scene. The victim – college-aged, middle-to-upper class who spent a lot of time basking in the California sun – would have their throat slit from ear to ear, a gaping, ugly wound that distracted from the torn clothes, the surprised expression, the glassy, unseeing eyes. The blood had always dried by the time they got there, covering from jaw to the base of the neck.

The blood was the trickiest part of it. In spite of the gore, he knew – he _knew_ regardless of how disrespectful and callous everyone else thought he was being – that there should be more of it. Bodies had more than the splash of color they found, and blood loss was always the cause of death.

So where was it all going?

He heard someone say the words 'serial killer,' and his already-limited patience snapped. Carlton turned his head towards the hapless uniform looking a little green around the gills. "It's not a serial killer unless it's been a month since the deaths started. We've got a few more days."

"So he's just a mass murderer," one of the older cops shrugged. "Who cares?"

"How about we catch the bastard before he kills anyone else? Does that sound like a good plan to you, Nichols?" He growled, aware of Juliet hovering to his left, about to interfere. "Or would you rather give him the satisfaction of having another victim?"

Nichols glared at him, lips pressed into a tight line, but he said nothing. "Carlton," Juliet finally said, pulling him away from the group of unhappy uniforms who were mostly here to keep perky journalists from getting to close to the body. He took his coffee from her, nodded in defeat and walked towards the corpse that was so sickeningly familiar.

Male, this time. The second out of the sixth. No pattern to it that he could see, but then they only had six victims to work with. He snorted unhappily at his own thought. _Only_ six. Yes, because Santa Barbara needed more corpses. Young corpses too, god help him. He personally couldn't wait until he had to call this one's next of kin explain that he was the sixth in a line of killings that seemed to be not only impossible but unsolvable. It was the terrible cherry on top of the worst proverbial sundae a man would ever have to choke down.

"Maybe we should call-"

"No." The last thing he needed was Shawn Spencer prancing around the crime scene, acting flippant and joking around when there was an ongoing threat. It was bad enough when there were only one or two people lost. Six with the threat of more? He refused to ask for that help willingly.

"But if he can help," Juliet said, trying her best, he knew. But that didn't stop the irritation, the annoyance.

"But if he gets in the way. If he alerts the press. If he makes this into a goddamned joke." He sipped his coffee. Too hot, it scalded his tongue, tasting of failure and too few sugars as he swallowed. He handed it off to her, knelt and slowly worked the wallet out of the man's back pocket with his gloved hands.

He flipped it open, found himself staring at a beaming face on a driver's license. Paul Watkins, 23, probably drained dry sometime between midnight and 4 AM. The same as all the others. Found laying next to his car in a parking garage, just another body, another kid who would be put in the ground long, long before his time.

He sighed and took his coffee back from Juliet, downing a large gulp of it, almost enjoying the burn. It was going to be a long day.

\-----

A seventh one dead from blood loss, an opened throat, and no connections between them. A serial killer loose on his streets, and they were helpless to stop him. Well. Not quite helpless. "I want patrols increased as much as we can manage, and a curfew instated until we catch this sick bastard."

Karen observed him, leaning forward over her desk, frowning intensely. He knew it was her decision, her call to make, but she had to see his reasoning. A killer with fewer options would make a mistake. "Before I resort to extreme measures, Detective, we should make sure we are utilizing all of our resources." He shook his head, wanting to reject her but knowing he didn't have the power. "Mr. Spencer and Mr. Guster are on their way. But I'll consider implementing those options if this escalates."

Carlton shifted uncomfortably. Insisting would imply that he didn't trust her judgment when that was far from the truth. He trusted her, but he didn't want to risk an escalation. Seven dead was bad enough. But more? "Chief, with all due respect-"

"I know, Carlton." She sighed, watching him with as much exhaustion as he felt. She did all of this while caring for a toddler and maintaining a healthy marriage. Far more impressive in his book than a flawless arrest record or perfect aim. But respecting her didn't mean he didn't realize when she was wrong. "I know. But we can't put the city in a state of high-alert yet. Seven deaths are, sadly, not enough. We cause a panic before there's a 100% significant cause, and we'll be doing more harm than good."

Her call to make. His case to solve. Their options limited, and time always ticking down to the next body. "It has to be the same person. All of the killings have been too exact, too perfect not to be. And he has no reason to stop."

"Like I said, Detective. We're calling in everyone we can. Profilers and-"

"Psychics," he sneered without meaning to.

She reiterated, "Everyone. I want this threat off the street just as badly as you do. I'm not ready to put the entire city on red alert, but I promise the moment we don't have a better option, I'll make that call."

He swallowed down his protestations and nodded, taking his dismissal for what it was and walking back out into the bullpen. Carlton snarled loudly enough to be heard by everyone at the nearby desks, "First person to give this bastard a cutesy nickname is going to be getting the worst jobs imaginable until he no longer appears in the papers."

Carlton stormed off to his desk, grabbing the file for the latest death and turning to head down to the coroner, Juliet at his heels. Part of him was hopelessly resigned to the fact that the body would reveal nothing new. He pushed it aside. Giving in was not on his to-do list. There had to be something that he was missing. And if he had to go over the evidence again and again until an answer made itself clear, then so be it.

\-----

Shawn and Gus invaded while they were talking to the coroner. They were both sitting in the Chief's office, but Carlton knew at a glance that his desk had been messed with. His jaw clenched, eyes scanning for possible practical jokes that he didn't want to deal with right now. He took his job seriously, and he was almost continually irritated that Shawn didn't. Or didn't respect him enough to leave him alone.

He snatched a tissue from Juliet's desk and cleared the lotion off of the handle of his desk phone, shooting a venomous glare at Shawn through the blinds of Vick's office. Shawn caught his expression and frowned before it shifted towards feigned innocence. Carlton ignored him and got back to work, sure that he'd have to deal with that headache soon enough. No need to tackle it before it was time.

He rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He had gone over the files again and again until he thought he could have recited them by heart, but even so, he couldn't see it. Other than general age and the unfortunate coincidence of being killed by the same methods and therefore likely the same killer, there were no solid connections. Some of them went to the same schools or churches – they might have been in the same class or Sunday School at some point, but it was always a dead end. None of the families knew each other, and none of them had people in common who might have been a person of interest.

Their profiler had theorized that the killings were random, that he was looking for a type and anyone who fit the bill was a possible victim. "He wants attention and recognition. He wants to be known and feared, but he doesn't want to be caught. Not yet, anyway. He's still having fun."

"Fun?" Juliet had sounded almost surprised, but Carlton was well beyond that point. Of course it was for fun. Serial killers didn't respect the lives of others, and tended to be more focused on themselves. An egotist stumping the police and gaining himself city-wide recognition – if not more – would be flying high.

"They were dead before those cuts were made," the profiler said, looking over her glasses at Juliet. Age and experience looking down on youthful optimism and ignorance, and while that was usually Carlton's place, he wanted to tell this stranger in their midst to back off. "The mutilation is just for show. To prove that he can. It's part of his game."

"Why the neck?" Carlton had asked, continued to ask for hours afterwards. The death was by blood loss, but there wasn't any blood around the crime scene, and there was very little on the body. If he drained them ahead of time, why slit their throats? There were more horrifying ways of making his mark. He should be grateful, he supposed, that the killer wasn't as sick as he could have been, but it was troubling in its own way.

A serial killer with limits. It didn't make sense to him. He should probably be grateful for that, but he wasn't.

He heard a surprised laugh cut through the somber quietude the station had been harboring since the fourth body. Like they were trying to hold it in. Like they laughed on accident. Carlton glanced up to see Juliet with her mouth covered, her smile badly hidden as Shawn continued to bait Gus, darting out of reach when his friend lashed out in fake irritation.

Carlton could see the other slight smiles as their influence radiated out, a hint of normality among the twisted reality they'd been suffering with, constantly waiting for the next body to be found and hoping for a scrap of evidence. Hoping that it wasn't one of their loved ones who turned up next. He turned his eyes back down to his work and let them carry on for a little while longer.

But he drew the line when Shawn invaded his work area, sitting on the edge of his desk and frowning. "Bad vibes all around here, Lassie."

"I wonder why," he said in what he hoped was a disapproving enough tone that Shawn wouldn't try to continue his facade while Carlton tried to get real work done. They'd be heading out soon to go talk to the latest victim's aunt who had identified the body, and he eagerly hoped that Shawn would find somewhere else to be. The last thing a grieving family needed was a hyperactive jackass pretending to speak to their departed loved ones.

He caught Shawn's eyes narrowing at the papers spread out on his desk, and he fought the urge to swipe them off. Shawn wasn't the enemy – Carlton's personal annoyance, perhaps, but nonetheless an asset. If he could see or 'sense' something in those that Carlton couldn't, then it was almost welcome at this point.

However, Shawn only turned an annoyingly bright smile at him, "The new guy keeps getting your coffee wrong. It's throwing off your chi like crazy, dude."

Carlton glared at him, and Shawn backed away, hands held up in surrender. He backed directly into Gus and fell, shouting as he caught himself. Twisting up and back onto his feet, eyes closed and fingers at his temples. "I'm seeing something!"

There it was. Carlton was on his feet, intending at first to interfere, but then he decided to let Shawn loose. Over the years, like it or not, he had learned that Shawn knew _something_. The hows and whys were immaterial except for Carlton's certainty that Shawn was lying about it. "He has a pattern!" Carlton paused, looked instinctively down to confirm what Shawn was telling them. He couldn't see it. "It's a number. 267."

Carlton scanned the dates again and his hands curled into fists. How had they not seen...? One of the bodies had been found a few days after she had been killed, but if they looked at her time of death instead of when her case was opened, then the pattern fell neatly into place. "So stupid," he growled quietly to himself. Shawn was going on about what the number meant and what it was saying to him, but Carlton wasn't listening. It was all fluff, meant to disguise the simple truth for what it was.

When Shawn snapped out of his 'vision', Gus was quick to translate, "That means we've only got two days before he kills again."

"If he doesn't change his pattern," Carlton countered. They couldn't accept an established pattern as absolute gospel, had to be ready just in case.

"He won't," Shawn insisted. "Why would he have a pattern if he was going to break it?"

"Accidents happen, Shawn," Gus pointed out, earning him a meaningful glare from his friend.

"A guy who made a pattern on accident would have slipped up and left evidence by now. Ask the profiler lady," he flapped a hand in her direction. "Everything he's done so far has been deliberate. So this is, too."

"Why 267?" Juliet asked, but Shawn and Gus shrugged together before glancing at each other and glaring as if they'd both had dibs on the gesture first.

Carlton grabbed his jacket and pulled it on, fastening the button quickly. He straightened up his desk, shoving the files into one of the cabinets nearby. "Come on, O'Hara, we've got to go talk to the aunt."

She frowned at him, but Carlton knew better. Shawn's number didn't mean anything to them yet except as possible dates for the next strike. It irked him that accepting Psych's help had become an expected part of his process, but if they could stop this from getting any worse, he was willing to deal with it for now.

\-----

Two days later, there was an eighth body. Same as the others, same conversation with the loved ones. It wasn't easier by any means, but he was numb to it. The pangs of empathy that he'd felt at first had dulled into silent rage that there was another addition to the body count. When he returned to Karen's office, he insisted, again, that they use curfews and increased manpower. Get them used to being off the street before the next death day arrived.

This time, she reluctantly agreed. Carlton stood beside her at the press conference, introduced as the detective working the case. There were a few questions directed at him, prying. One journalist accused him of being an alarmist, eager to put the whole city on watch when there wasn't a clear threat.

He saw his expression on the film later – righteous anger just beneath the surface, a volcano threatening to explode. "I don't want there to be another corpse on our hands. If the city needs to be on red alert for the next six months, for the next year to save the lives of others, then that's the price paid for safety."

Carlton knew he was hated. For his measures, for not catching the killer fast enough, for his lack of a friendly face during dark times. He wasn't here to make people feel good about themselves. He wasn't here to make them feel safe either. His job was to make them safe.

The ninth body appeared six days later, as anticipated. In his dorm room, blood drained, throat slit. No signs of forced entry, but the window had been left open. They had picked up some prints, but Carlton wasn't holding his breath on getting a match that meant anything.

He felt some sort of grim satisfaction. All of the others had been attacked out on the streets, which meant the measures were working. The killer was having a hard time finding his targets – he'd be getting more desperate as they increased patrols around the colleges and told people to be on their guard on the nights when an attack was expected.

They revealed the schedule in an announcement on all major news outlets, and Carlton found himself mentally preparing for the inevitable. The evidence was still inconclusive, but that didn't mean it was useless. Little hints here and there – and a completely unsubtle display from Shawn halfway through the week from hell – led them to believe he'd be striking as close to the coast as possible.

Everyone who could afford to participate geared up. Even Shawn and Gus had agreed to join in the eyes watching Santa Barbara on the expected night. Carlton spent the night with Juliet, cramped into the Crown Vic as they watched for anyone that looked even remotely suspicious. The radio went off several times, all false alarms, curfew-breakers, kids risking their necks, but none of them carrying anything that would be used to drain all of the blood from a victim nor a knife that would make that gory slice.

When dawn broke, they waited. Even as they continued work on other cases, they kept their ears open, waiting to hear about the hole in security, to hear about who the next victim was. By noon, there were tentative smiles, exhausted excitement quietly bubbling up on the edges. Text messages and phone calls flew as quickly as the whispered word, but so far as they knew, they'd gotten through day seven without another victim.

Carlton wanted to tell them not to get their hopes up, wanted to snap at them and tell them to get back to work, but they'd been through enough. They'd earned a little indulgence, a little bit of happiness. When the work day was nearing an end with no reports of a victim matching their killer's MO, the mood was bordering on cheery.

He knew they'd probably find a body tomorrow. But if they'd broken his pattern, messed him up, then they were looking at someone fallible, someone capable of making mistakes. Someone human and knowing something so simple often made it easier for the officers to keep their spirits and hopes alive.

Even he wasn't immune. "Lassie, we're going out for drinks. You coming with?" Shawn beamed, tilting his head back to indicate Juliet and Gus who were waiting patiently for one or both of them to come along.

"There's no reason to celebrate, Spencer. He's still out there."

"There was no body. I think that's as good a reason as any. Besides, if we can stop him for one night, then we can stop him for good."

He ought to have said no. Ought to have grabbed his things and headed home for a long sleep and preparation when the mercies of today turned into new horrors of tomorrow. Instead, he looked at the three of them and decided that tomorrow could be dealt with when it got here. He said, "I'll drink to that," and Shawn laughed, delighted as he dragged Carlton away from his desk and towards the others.

\-----

His sheets and blankets twisted around him, heat making him writhe unhappily even when he managed to untangle the cloth from his legs. Carlton kicked it all off the bed, leaving him in his pajama pants, but even those felt like too much. Ever modest, even while his mind swam through a pleased haze courtesy of the evening spent drinking with the others, he elected to stumble out of bed, his feet finding purchase on the carpet as he made his way across the room.

Even the lights from the streetlamps couldn't make him feel awake. Everything was slow, moving leisurely as he drew the blinds up, unlatched the window and opened it. The first touch of night air had him breathing deeply, appreciating the cool breeze rushing across his hot skin. The sweat he'd worked up by being too warm in bed began to chill pleasantly, and Carlton smiled to himself. He slowly lumbered back to bed and collapsed on it, stretching out on his back, eyes closed as he embraced sleep again.

The edge of the bed dipped down, and Carlton's eyes blinked blearily open to the shadow in the dark. It crawled up to straddle his hips, a presence as light as air and yet keeping him down on the bed. He reached out to push it away, but firm hands pinned his arms back onto the mattress. Carlton writhed, pushed up and arched as the shadow leaned over. Soft lips and the tip of a nose traced up his neck, an inviting murmur vibrating against his skin, echoing in his ears. "Let me in."

The touch of a tongue had his head tilting slightly back, baring his throat to a gentle kiss that roughened with a hard lick of a tongue and a scrape of dull teeth. A sudden sharpness and Carlton's eyes flew open, staring without seeing at the ceiling, all focus on the pain. His struggle renewed, but he found himself getting weaker and weaker until it was an effort to remain awake.

He felt fear unfurling in his gut, a warning that came too late. He was already dead.

"Shh," soothed that voice again, just below his ear. The hands holding him down moved, cradled his head gently, fingers combing back through his hair. "Let me in," it said, gently, again. One hand moved up, and Carlton saw a flash of red on a canvas of white before he was led to it. He licked the wet smear on his lips away and again and again when it came back.

His eyes closed, and when he opened them again, the shadow was gone. Carlton succumbed to a feverish sleep, plagued by nightmares of agony and fire.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything hurt. That was the conclusion he'd come up with in the last two hours of getting up and ready and down to the station. Definitely the worst hangover he'd had in years. He hid behind his aviators, leaning on his desk while watching the others buzzing like busy little bees around the station. His body felt weary, lingering exhaustion that was only trumped by the fuzzy pain that clouded his head and had him wincing at the bright sunlight.

He closed his eyes and tried to push the pain down, hoping that with enough willpower, he would open them again and it would be gone. He found himself drifting, finding odd comfort in the thumping rhythms that slowly pushed the haze away. Carlton listened, lulled. Must be some CD player or mp3 device turned up too loud, headphones that couldn't keep the noise muffled. He found it soothing. His fingers tapped the beat, speeding with it, like he knew the song.

"Carlton!" His eyes snapped open, head jerking up. Juliet stood in front of his desk, files and notes in her hands, frowning. "Were you asleep?"

"No," he said, hoping his tone was severe enough that she wouldn't see the lie. He hadn't been asleep exactly. Just distracted. Not any more excusable, not really, but he was certainly awake now.

"What's with the glasses?"

Carlton reached up and pushed them down his nose, meeting her eyes with only the faintest wince at the light. "Did they find a body?"

Juliet frowned, looked as if she might fight argue before closing her mouth and shaking her head. "None from him." She held out the file and her notes, "But there was a suicide last night. They found the body less than an hour ago. The Chief wants us to check it out just in case."

"Knife wound?" He guessed as he took the file, scanning over the basic information before pushing himself to his feet. He nudged his sunglasses back up his nose, grateful for the shade. "Come on. Let's get going."

"Carlton?" Juliet frowned, stepping in his way. "Are you all right?"

Carlton scowled and stepped around her, electing to ignore the question and hoping it was the best response. He was fine. One bad night's sleep wasn't going to be enough to slow him down. Not when there was work to be done. "Come on, O'Hara." He heard her small sigh of frustration and found himself grumbling, "I'm fine."

It wasn't a lie. Not exactly. He would be fine. This exhaustion and the distraction it caused were only temporary, just something else to power through, to ignore until it went away. He'd push himself even harder until it was done to prove nothing was wrong. Business as usual. "I'm fine," he repeated firmly, knowing that even though she didn't believe him, she'd go along with it. Juliet nodded slowly and stepped aside, letting him lead the way to the car. He'd drive – that was undisputed. Accepting help was accepting weakness, and that was simply unacceptable.

\-----

The exhaustion only got worse, dragging him down until it felt like a monumental effort to do anything. He tried stubbornly to soldier on, jaw clenched as he forced his feet to move, forced his focus to the scene and not to himself. Normal house, normal family, tear-stained faces, so distressed by the scene in their son's bedroom when they'd met with the officers earlier. The EMTs had taken the boy, hoping against hope that it wasn't too late, that they could help. 

Slit wrists, too much blood. Carlton's vision swam with red that stained the blankets, the sheets, the mattress. Part of him smugly reasserted that he was right – the other crime scenes didn't have enough of it – while the rest of him fought the sudden light-headedness that had him swaying on his feet. The smell was the worst; dark tendrils of misery and death underlying the heavy stench of blood.

He shook his head, tried to focus. "Not our guy. The others were drained before the cuts," somehow with no puncture wounds, but those were details he was working on. "This is just..." Just a suicide sounded too harsh, like he didn't care, like he didn't understand. He bit the words back, said instead, "Just a coincidence."

"No forced entry," Juliet said, and Carlton was aware that she had no idea how poorly he was feeling. He intended to keep it that way.

"The knife is still on the bed," he walked closer to it, seeing the gleam of metal amidst the red. It sparkled in his eye, lit up. A kitchen knife, perfectly ordinary, deadly in the wrong hands. Smooth-edged, and why could he imagine it sinking, cutting smoothly through flesh? He shook his head again, shook the thought away. "And he's two years younger than our youngest victim so far."

"He didn't leave a note or anything," Juliet frowned. Carlton spotted the boy's cellphone on his desk, set neatly aside from the carnage he'd caused. He picked it up, gloved fingers clumsily opening the right menus.

_ha ha v funny_

_come on dude_

_w/e see u at school_

"I think he did," he said, seeing Juliet's shoulders droop in the corner of his eye. He scrolled up the page some and sighed. "Yeah. Coincidence." He slid the phone back on the table, found his eyes drifting towards the bedspread. Mostly dried, the red fading into a sickly dark color, staining forever. His fingers drifted over it, feeling the impulse to touch.

Morbid, that. Carlton pulled himself away, pushed that thought down and looked over at Juliet who was investigating properly. He took a deep, steadying breath and got his feet moving again, heavy and sluggish.

One foot in front of the other until this day was over. Then it'd all be better again.

\-----

The touch was light, a gentle brush of a hand against his. A product of a lack of space, two bodies trying to squeeze by each other. It should have meant nothing, should have been instantly pushed aside, ignored, never thought of again.

But that was most decidedly not the case. Electric, the touch sent a tingling pulse racing up his arm, burning through the exhaustion and pain, pushing it all away. It burned brightly, a flame lighting up the darkness, pushing the shadows away with each flicker. Carlton stopped, his body unwilling to move, searching for the face in the crowd as they moved on.

The faces swam together, officers and civilians, each the same as the last, moving so slowly it seemed, like ghosts or zombies or some other ridiculous monster Carlton had never bothered being afraid of. He blinked, again, and a third time, and the haze seemed to clear away, the blurs becoming sharper until he realized he knew the people he was looking at. 

He even knew exactly who had touched him, a pretty woman walking away beside an officer, pale hair tied back, exposing the fragile curve of her neck. Carlton turned away, walking quickly to his desk, ignoring the twist in his gut. How desperate was he if he read into an accidental touch that much, if it threw him that far off his game? Pathetic. Honestly, absolutely pathetic.

By the time he sat at his desk, it had all come back. Weight settled on his shoulders, sitting heavy in his chest. Like drowning, the surface just there if he could push himself up a little farther. Carlton sighed, leaning back in his chair, fatigue urging him to relax, do nothing, rest his eyes and let it all slip away.

He heard Juliet talking from what seemed to be miles away, echoes barely reaching his ears. He forced his eyes open again, seeing her standing just to the side of his desk with crossed arms and a concerned frown. "Hm?" He sat up, trying to focus on her as she sighed, frustrated.

"When was the last time you ate?"

Breakfast hadn't appealed to him for whatever reason, his stomach turning at the idea of even something as simple as toast. And the previous night... "Tom Blair's." Bland burger and fries, but it hadn't mattered for long. "Last night."

Juliet's expression hardened, "It's almost three." He began to protest, but she shook her head, "No wonder you're feeling this badly."

"I'm _fine_ , O'Hara."

"I'm your partner," she answered severely. "And I've never seen you this out of it before ever. So get up – you're taking your lunch break."

He resented being treated like a child, and the idea of eating was somehow repulsive in spite of his stomach's insistence that they get something in it as soon as possible. Carlton scowled, hoping Juliet would get the message and leave him alone. However, over the years, she'd become resistant to his stubbornness, able to outlast him in what few staredowns they had nowadays.

After a long silence, he growled, "Fine." Juliet smiled at him and took his keys, turning around to lead him out. Carlton rolled his eyes and caught up with her, unwilling to let others assume she was leading him. "But I get to pick the restaurant." 

He caught her smile widening as she nodded. "Of course."

\-----

Hunger gnawed at him, driving him out of his mind if he'd had the energy for it. He slammed the pantry door so hard that the wood splintered around the hinges, dark cracks forming in the wood. Carlton closed his eyes, resting his head against the door, trying to think, to figure out where the craving came from that was driving him out of his head.

The last day had been worse. He'd taken medication. He'd attempted to exercise. He'd tried drinking so much caffeine, and when that'd failed, he'd almost drowned himself in water. Nothing was making it better, and everything was making it worse. Making him feel like he was dying all except for the craving that promised reprieve if he could only fulfill it.

Losing his mind.

He thumped his fist weakly against the door, muttering angrily, "Pull yourself together," like hearing it out loud would push all of this away. Like the world would make sense again. He took a deep breath, stepping away from the door as the shrill sound of a phone ringing broke through the silence in his house.

He flinched away from the noise. Sound, light, smells, everything felt like too much. An overload, too much to process and focus on so that he could barely function at all. Juliet had told him to go to the doctor's, but Carlton resisted. He wasn't sure why – surely a medical professional could help him more than trying to out-stubborn whatever new malfunction his body had created. Going to get help meant admitting something was wrong. The longer he resisted, the more untrue it seemed. If he could just hold off until it was over...

The phone rang again, and Carlton crossed the room, each step feeling like a monumental effort. He picked up quickly after seeing the Caller ID, saying, "Lassiter."

"They found another body. Estimated time of death is about an hour ago." Carlton glanced at the clock. Huh. When had it passed midnight, much less 3 AM? How long had he been in his kitchen looking for food and feeling hopelessly lost? "Carlton."

"Get some uniforms canvassing the area. If anyone saw anything remotely suspicious, I want to know about it." He shook his head, pushing the weariness away. "Where's the crime scene?"

The Chief hesitated briefly, and Carlton's scowl deepened. Two days and he was absolutely sick of being coddled. The fact that everyone seemed to know that there was something wrong only worsened his irritation and his need to pretend that everything was fine. He waited in silence until she finally gave him the address. "I'll let you know what we find out."

"Take care of yourself, Carlton."

He rolled his eyes but kept his voice carefully neutral. "I'd rather have to take a sick day or two in the future if it means we get him off the streets and into a cell where he belongs."

"That's an order, Detective."

Carlton clenched his jaw and nodded sharply. "Yes, Chief."

\-----

Rosalie Alesio. Her roommate came in from a party – tipsy, giggly, probably wanted to talk to her best friend about something or the other, and instead she found Rosalie laid out, eyes wide, gone. Carlton looked over the body and felt the sickening twist of familiarity. He turned his eyes away, collected himself before examining the crime scene.

The apartment was filthy, but it was the careful chaos of college living. Textbooks and notebooks were piled on random surfaces, and a laptop perched precariously on the edge of the desk. At an angle, closed but humming with life. He wondered, if he opened it, if he'd see what she'd been doing last.

Focus. He looked for any signs of a struggle, but the only thing out of order were the blankets on the bed. Looking like she'd been pinned, writhing and pushing them away from her as she fought her killer. Carlton frowned.

Soon. He reminded himself firmly. Soon, and this would all be over.

A gleam in the light caught his eye, and Carlton realized dimly that the blood was still wet. He felt sick – the body might still be warm if it hadn't been drained. For a moment, he felt that righteous fire, the reminder of why he was sworn to protect and serve the people of his city before it all drained away. Because of his failure, this was what they were left with. Another dead, and nothing to go on.

Why the wound? The profiler seemed to think it was meant to be a taunt, a _come get me_ from the killer to the cops. A challenge he was clearly failing. He found himself staring at it, an opening of parted flesh, glistening red. Hideous. Marring what would have once been smooth, soft, sensitive skin. Pale and unprotected. A bared arch.

Treat it softly at first, perhaps drawing a giggle, the smallest tickle. Lips and tongue running over it, warm, inviting. A fluttery pulse, excited, a promise of life. A small resistance, but it would break easily enough, just enough pressure and then it'd be water in the desert, an oasis, life amidst death until the pulse fluttered weakly and then... Silence.

"Detective?"

Carlton jumped, wheeling around to stare guiltily at the forensics specialists standing nearby. The world spun dizzily around him before righting itself, and the last few minutes finally registered in his mind. Carlton felt green around the gills, more sick than the physical weariness and the hunger. He hadn't been actually thinking about...? No. No. Of course not.

He took a steadying breath, reluctant to look back at that disgustingly tempting wound. But intuition worked in mysterious ways at times. "Give me a second."

Carlton bent to look at the neck, at the edge of the slice. The slice and blood disguised everything else. There was no way of knowing. He shook his head and took a step back. "She's all yours." He felt the itch on his tongue, the urge to ask them to look for additional neck wounds, but he held it back. For now. He was too exhausted, and giving them a harder time than necessary on his brain-dead hunch didn't sound like a remotely good idea.

Sleep. And in the morning – god, in a few hours – he'd reevaluate.

\-----

Crime didn't stop when there was one monster worse than all the others, and he found himself reluctantly pulled away from the case and pushed towards others. More bodies, more evidence, more of the fatigue that made every single movement, breath, thought agonizing as he forced his way through it.

He could barely remember why they were looking for Daniel Sandoval – a robbery, he thought, along with an assault when the victim came home earlier than Sandoval had anticipated. That sounded almost right, but he couldn't be entirely sure as he dragged himself out near the custom car shop Sandoval co-owned with a friend.

He could practically hear Juliet biting back yet another concerned question about whether he was sure he felt okay. Carlton knew he had to look like hell – if he felt this badly, there was no way it wasn't affecting him outwardly. He ought to look, but he found himself keeping away from mirrors and reflections, afraid to see what the rest of them did.

"Daniel Sandoval," Juliet began, stepping into the open garage door with her badge in her hand. "We need to ask you some questions about the robbery at..." Carlton stopped listening, honing in on the figure everyone else in the garage seemed to be looking at.

Sandoval looked up, his head peeking around the side of a car hood to see what was going on. He raised his goggles to get a better look, his eyes zeroing in on Juliet and Carlton. He seemed to linger on Carlton, his eyes widening as he took a step away. Carlton could hear a tempo in his head, racing loud and fast, and he knew the moment that Sandoval took a single unsure step away from the car that he was going to run.

He expected the fatigue to hold him back, to drag him down and make it impossible to move much less chase. But when Sandoval turned and ran, Carlton propelled forward, fighting through the exhaustion one slow step at a time. It burned away as he honed in on Sandoval, following him with ease through the cluttered garage. He ducked under a tool thrown at him, jumped over a box of parts that spilled and might have tripped him up.

He could hear that beat, loud, the most intense music he'd ever heard, pushing him on, drawing him closer. He almost had Sandoval, but he darted out the back door. It swung back heavily, and Carlton's arm smacked against it, flinging it open as he came out into the alley where Sandoval continued fleeing.

Carlton's long legs ate up the distance between them, full strides pulling him closer and closer until he'd tackled Sandoval, pushed him to the ground. The beat was louder, consuming, and it was so natural to bend his head. There was warmth just there making him know suddenly that he was so cold, as cold as ice and something in him urged him to take it for himself. 

He breathed out over thin skin, feeling goosebumps rise as Sandoval shuddered, and it was only then that the fog cleared, exhaustion weighing on his bones again as he pulled himself back. He was speaking, the words automatic and slurred.

Fangs, he discovered, were quite hard to speak around.

Carlton stood and pulled Sandoval up, looking back the way he'd come from to see Juliet staring, eyes wide and confused. In the midst of his chase, he'd knocked the door off the top hinge. It hung on barely at the bottom, squeaking when the wind pushed it this way and that. Sandoval had stopped talking mid-sentence about something, about to be demanding, but when he saw the door, his mouth closed with an audible click of his teeth. Carlton might have been more impressed if his mind weren't reeling from the idea that had rooted in his mind.

\-----

He ran his tongue over his teeth, brushed them again and again as if he could scrub away the knowledge that he'd had fangs. They were normal now – he could feel them, running his teeth along flat edges and dulled points, tasting cinnamon from his toothpaste and finding himself hungry even though he'd eaten half of his pantry in the last few days trying to find something to fill that craving that he was now afraid he'd put a name to.

In his dreams that night, Carlton pinned Sandoval down and didn't hold back. He broke skin and drank, filling himself with Sandoval's warmth, sating that terrible hunger and driving away the fatigue with brutal efficiency. Sandoval might have tried to fight back, but he was helpless. Carlton was fast, strong, and starving.

A primal predator, he did what he had to, gorging himself until he had all of Sandoval's warmth inside of him, the winter delayed inside of him as Sandoval lay dead on the concrete.

Carlton's eyes flew open to see a dark room, his body thrumming. He closed his eyes and tried to stop himself. But before he could, his tongue was mapping the unfamiliar sharpness of his fangs. More familiar to him was the weight of his cock in his hand, hard and heavy (but so cold).

Carlton forced himself to roll over onto his stomach, pulling his arms up under his head and willing his arousal to go away. He wasn't sure how long he waited for his body to settle, but he felt it go a little at a time, the fangs shortening and becoming dull as his dick softened. He buried his face in his pillow, waiting long hours until sleep finally took him.


	3. Chapter 3

He had woken up right at dawn, still feeling weak and tired, but there was firm determination in his gut, spreading up his spine and keeping it straight, his shoulders up, telling him, ordering him to move past whatever fantasy he'd been allowing himself to live in. This nonsense was beneath him, and the only way to best it was to soldier on, seek professional advice, and soldier on more. Being stubborn was a trait he knew well, and it hadn't changed because of a few off days.

Carlton had decided all of this with the confidence he usually had when lying to himself, though he didn't see the signs of that until he was halfway down his block, the crisp morning air feeling cool against his skin. Jogging was difficult with the exhaustion weighing on him, but he powered through, step by step until he was going at a decent pace and not feeling as if he needed to stop anytime soon.

One of the neighbors to his apartment building was out in her garden, pruning back her roses that were beginning to climb over the fence and into the area where people usually walked. Carlton almost shied away when he remembered the day before, but he set his jaw stubbornly and kept jogging.

He was a house away when it happened. Mrs. Warren pulled her hand back with a sudden hiss, looking down as she cradled her hand. Carlton felt his entire world slide sideways, his eyes honed in on the drops of red rolling down her finger. His tongue flicked behind his teeth. His body shuddered when he exhaled. And if he let himself think, if he let himself imagine, he could smell it, taste it, and something in him yearned, telling him to break, to attack, to take what belonged to him. He was the hunter. He was...

"Detective?" Mrs. Warren frowned as she looked at him. "Are you all right?"

Carlton tried to reply, but he suddenly knew that if he opened his mouth, it would be to sink his fangs into her neck, not to offer up some weak apology. "You seem ill, dear. Go home and get some rest."

He nodded, grateful for the dismissal. He ran home, breathing hard out of panic, not out of necessity. He waited for the sound of his heart pounding in his ears but it never came. He mashed the button for the elevator, but there were people nearby. People with warm blood just there, and he just needed-

"No," he snarled and took off up the stairs, taking several at a time, trusting his body to get him there as his mind scrambled desperately for purchase in a world that was suddenly too slippery for him to keep himself sane. The moment he slammed the door, he pressed his fingers against his neck. And again. And again.

He had no pulse.

Carlton leaned back against the door, defeated. He slumped against it, sliding slowly to the floor. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, hands curled up into fists on the hardwood flooring.

There was only one person he could think of who might be able to confirm or deny his suspicions. He immediately recoiled from the idea, but a moment of careful consideration reminded him that psychics suddenly seemed to be within the realm of possibility.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Carlton pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and quickly selected the number from his contacts list. The phone rang twice before the line opened and a very sleepy-sounding Shawn asked, "Lass? Why you callin' me this early in the morning?"

Carlton forced himself to remain calm. "Spencer, you need to listen to me very carefully. Come to my apartment as quickly as you can. I... seem to be in need of psychic expertise."

Sounding surprisingly sharp, Shawn said, "If someone's holding you hostage say 'under the bed'."

"I'm alone. I need you to come alone. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yeah. Yeah, okay." Shawn still seemed unsure and nervous, but he said, "I'll be over there quick as a flash." Before Carlton could reply, Shawn hung up.

Carlton leaned his head against the door, hitting it a few times in frustration. Step two of this would be a lot harder. Keeping Shawn from touching him and keeping himself from killing Shawn seemed to be two insurmountable tasks. But if he was going to put this to bed, he didn't doubt that he would need Shawn's help in doing it seeing as his own common sense had failed him. Shawn was much better at flying without it – maybe he could be helpful for once.

Carlton eventually pulled himself up to walk over to and collapse on the couch. He lay there, staring at the ceiling and puzzling through what he knew and any other options. Insanity came to mind, but he was almost certain that the insane couldn't see their own madness or that lucidity was quicker to fade than the certified freakout he was having.

It was almost a relief when there was a knock at his door. Carlton crossed to the door quickly and opened it. "Hey, Lassie," Shawn said, beaming, his hair still wet from his morning shower. Carlton didn't have to step closer to know that Shawn was warm just like Sandoval and Mrs. Warren and everyone else except him. "You look like hell, dude. What's going on?"

He pushed his way inside, and Carlton flinched from the contact, stepping away and out of reach quickly, self-consciously, not wanting Shawn to feel how cold he was, how he had no pulse. He didn't want those all-seeing eyes to turn to him and know what he'd dreamed about last night and how he was suddenly thinking of making it real with Shawn himself.

He shook his head and took a breath. "I have a problem."

"You don't say." Shawn looked him up and down as Carlton closed the door. "Want me to read you a bedtime story? Get you a glass of milk?"

"Cut the bullshit, Spencer," Carlton growled, meeting Shawn's eyes. Shawn's mouth slowly closed. "Look. You do... whatever it is that you do. You're... above average at getting results with it." Shawn's eyes glittered, and his smirk said that they both knew better than that. "I need you to tell me what's wrong with me."

"I'm flattered, but I don't think I'm a good substitute for a doctor's visit."

Certainty curled up into a heavy ball and settled in his stomach. "Doctors can't help me."

"You think I can." Carlton lifted his chin but didn't answer. Shawn's eyes flicked over him a few times before he nodded, "All right. Tell me what's going on. I'll see what vibes I can pick up."

Carlton closed his eyes, searching for words and finding them out of his reach. He settled on the easiest, "I'm hungry all the time. I can eat as much as I want, but it never stops. I feel like I'm craving something, but it's more than that. Cravings don't have to be satisfied – this does. It's the only thing that'll work."

"Like what? Pickles and ice cream or?"

Carlton shook his head, "Not important." Shawn considered, and Carlton could practically feel him weighing the decision to poke at Carlton or leave him be against each other. Before he could make Carlton angry – and possibly make him do something he'd regret – he kept talking. "I'm so tired. Physically fatigued. I've tried medicine, water, exercise, rest, but it hurts to move, to breathe. To think, and I can barely function on the most basic level." He shook his head, "This can't keep happening. I have a duty to uphold and-"

"I get it, Lassie. So, what you're craving, yeah? It's messing up your inner energy. Your aura's all over the place – you need to bring it back into line again." Shawn reached out unbidden and clapped Carlton on the arm, heat radiating out from his touch and every hair on Carlton's neck stood on end. He could feel Shawn's heartbeat, so close, so inviting, and all he could do was shut down. Moving forward, he'd attack Shawn, and moving away seemed impossible. "It's telling you what you need. So tell me, and we'll take care of it."

Carlton tried to hold it back, but Shawn gave him a comforting smile. And squeezed his arm. Carlton felt as if everything froze, and he knew that the temptation was going to be too great. He had to get Shawn away, and honesty suddenly seemed like the best policy. "Blood." Shawn's eyes widened, searching his face for deceit. Carlton stared him down, "I need _blood_ , Spencer."

Shawn's mouth froze in a half smile. He chuckled awkwardly and pulled his hand away, leaving Carlton feeling more lucid but bereft and needing. Shawn kept laughing, "Oh _man_. Good job, Lassie. Like, great, really, I almost bought it."

Carlton felt lost. He needed help, not to be mocked and ignored. "I think I'm a vampire," he said desperately, and Shawn only laughed harder, doubled over, gasping for air. His heart pounded louder and louder, and Carlton snapped.

His fingers curled around Shawn's shoulders and he slammed him against the wall. Shawn immediately went silent, his mouth open but not moving. His throat moved several times, and his lips twitched, almost shaping something. His body trembled and his heart, his pulse raced, desperately seeking air.

Carlton found himself leaning closer, but when he realized it, he pulled away, letting Shawn collapse on his hands and knees, finally gasping in. Carlton looked at the wall – the plaster had cracks from where he'd shoved Shawn against it. He glanced down at Shawn, alarmed for a moment that he'd harmed him in his anger, but Shawn was still breathing heavily, staring at the ground.

"It's not a joke," he explained after too long, needing forgiveness and to be condemned.

Shawn slowly sat up and got to his feet, watching Carlton with what seemed to be more curiosity than fear. Never seeming to know when to save his skin, Shawn walked closer without answering. He grabbed Carlton's jaw while Carlton was still confused about Shawn's intent. "Open up, I wanna see 'em."

Carlton could move, snap his head forward and down, grab Shawn's hand with his fangs and- and- He shook himself out of Shawn's grip. "See what?"

"The fangs, man. If you're a vampire, you have to have fangs. Otherwise you're just a creepy pale dude who craves blood. And I mean I'm not judging or anything, but I'd almost rather it be vampire, all things considered."

"They're not there."

"Well then," Shawn said brightly. "You're not a vampire. Congrats, Lassie." He started to walk towards the door, but Carlton pushed him back again. This time, he saw a flash of unease. Shawn knew he was outmatched. Shawn knew something had changed, even if he didn't believe it yet.

Carlton knew the feeling pretty well by now. "They're not there right now." 

"Do you have sheaths like a snake?" Shawn brought his hand up and used his index and middle finger to imitate cobra fangs.

"I think," Carlton said, ignoring Shawn, "I have to be ready to feed. I have to be... um." He shifted uncomfortably at the way Shawn's eyes went wide, obviously interested and curious, but Carlton was not a circus act. "Hunting."

"...Uh huh. And you're sure you weren't like tripping on something or having paranoid hallucinations or-"

"I told you this is serious," he snarled. 

"And I want to believe you." Shawn held up his hands and pushed them down slightly, indicating that Carlton needed to calm down. "I do. I mean, vampires and werewolves and such? My little psychic heart yearns. But I'm just not..." Carlton held out his arm, his hand balled in a fist, the inside of his wrist turned up. "Uh. Lass?"

"Check my pulse."

Shawn stepped forward, his fingers pressing against the still, silent veins on Carlton's arm. His touch called to Carlton again, reminding him of what he didn't have, what he needed. But he held still, eyes riveted on Shawn's expression as he moved his hand several times, searching for what wasn't there.

With a determined scowl, he stepped into Carlton's space again, pressing his fingers against Carlton's neck. Carlton could hear his heartbeat, loud and afraid and so close. His head swam, and his hands shook as he lifted them, placing them heavily on Shawn's shoulders. Shawn brought his head up, eyes meeting Carlton's. "Spencer," he said, his voice low and rough.

Shawn was dazed and breathless as he observed, "Fangs."

Carlton blinked once slowly, building up a little at a time until the spell had wavered enough for him to realize what he – what they had both – been about to do. He pushed Shawn away from him, stepping away quickly and pressing himself against the far wall. His eyes were open wide, his breathing fast. "You should... you should leave."

Shawn shook his head, seeming more alert, more present than he had just a moment before. "No way. You need help"

"Not from you."

"You called me, remember?" Shawn didn't approach him, staying safely on his side of the entryway, eying Carlton with a fascination that made Carlton feel sick. "You need me," he said with certainty. "You need someone who believes you and who can help you." After a moment of consideration, he added with a grin, "And spritz you with holy water when you start trying to eat the neighbors."

Carlton's mouth fell open, eyes flicking around Shawn's face, trying to figure out how he could have possibly known about the incident that had gotten Carlton to call him in the first place. Shawn rolled his eyes and waggled his fingers near his eyebrow. Carlton glared, and Shawn's heartbeat jumped, thundering. The knowledge that he was afraid made Carlton feel equal parts powerful and helpless. He had never been able to get Shawn to back down in all of their interactions together, but suddenly the game had changed.

"So how long has the whole fangy thing been going on?"

"Few days," Carlton said, trying to remember when it had started. He scowled, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "I almost fed on a suspect yesterday. Had to tackle him to the ground, and I wasn't thinking."

"Before that?"

Carlton shook his head, "Impulses. But nothing that close."

"Getting worse, then, yeah?" Shawn said easily, taking everything in stride. It made Carlton sneer, wanting to show him how wrong he was to not take this seriously, but the only thing he could think of made him wish he could force himself backwards through the wall. With a smile, Shawn started walking to the door, "We should get you something to eat. Indian or Italian? Ooh, do you think people taste differently?" Shawn turned around suddenly, frowning concernedly. "Oh. Didn't think about the sun thing."

"The sun's fine," Carlton growled.

Shawn blinked several times, "Really?"

"Yes! I've been working during the day. Maybe it's a little bright, but-"

"Oh my god," Shawn's expression soured. "You're not one of the ones that _sparkle_ are you?"

Carlton stared at Shawn, mouth open. "What?"

Shawn peered at him, pursed lips and eyes narrowed, "Either you burn or you sparkle, Lassie, pick a side."

"I- neither! I can't choose any of this. I didn't choose," he snarled. This time, Shawn didn't seem impressed. His heartbeat was steady, and he held his ground. Carlton hit his fists weakly against the wall, still leaning heavily against it. He hung his head. "I can't... feed on people. I can't do that to someone."

"Might not be so bad," Shawn said, shifting from foot to foot to curb his need to approach and pull Carlton out of his sour mood. "No way of knowing. No one says you have to kill anyone."

"I won't," he said stubbornly, lifting his head. "I can control the impulse to feed."

Shawn raised a single unimpressed eyebrow. "Can you? Imagine something for me, Lass. We're at the station, working on a case, same old dance. And, per usual, I get a vision," Shawn stumbled sideways in the entryway. "Psychic forces, they pull me. This way, that!" He flung himself around like a ragdoll, a perfect imitation of his visions that had Carlton's usual skepticism growling at him.

Before he could give his suspicions proper thought, Shawn threw himself at Carlton, his body pressed fully against him. Carlton stopped breathing, his hands pressing against the wall to keep them off of Shawn, to contain himself. Shawn raised his head, his mouth several inches below Carlton's ear as he murmured, "And this happens."

Shawn stayed on him, his hands rubbing Carlton's shoulders, spreading warmth. Carlton raised his body towards him without meaning to, needing more. He turned his head, surprised by the determined look on Shawn's face. "What happens from here?"

Carlton growled, "I push you away. We both get back to work."

"Do you?" Shawn tilted his head away, exposing the line of his neck. "My heart's racing. You still haven't fed." Shawn kept his eyes on Carlton's. "You're weak. For a single moment. For once, Lassie, you're human."

He chuckled, "Or well. Not quite human. A more deadish, fangy human. Who thirsts for blood. The usual." Carlton closed his eyes, not wanting to admit that Shawn was right. It was difficult to keep himself under control now. But Shawn didn't move. "You're cold."

"You're warm," he said, his voice and will weakening.

"So. You need to eat." Shawn patted his cheek and pulled himself away. "If you don't burn or sparkle, let's go find you someone to munch on."

"Spencer!" He felt familiar exasperation which was, strangely, welcome in comparison to the confusion, fatigue, and fear he'd been coping with for the last several days. "I'm not going to eat anyone."

"Relaaaax, Lassie." He grinned and opened the door, hanging onto the knob and swinging himself back and forth. "Let's start small. Raw meat's got blood, right?"

Carlton's tongue flicked against his teeth. Hearing it said out loud made the craving seem like it was like any other hunger – manageable. Almost normal. It couldn't be that easy, he knew that, but with Shawn's enthusiasm and unflinching faith that everything would work out, Carlton found himself willing to hope.

\-----

Carlton waited in the driver's seat, his sunglasses and a scowl firmly in place. Shawn had gone into the grocery store alone, saying that no one needed to see Carlton salivating over the raw meat. Carlton was not sulking – just slouching in his seat, arms crossed, glaring at the entrance and tapping his foot against the brake pedal.

When Shawn finally bounced out of the store, Carlton's eyes riveted on the plastic bag, following it down the sidewalk, across the parking lot, and into his car, settled on Shawn's lap. "My apartment's closer," Shawn offered, and Carlton immediately put the car into reverse.

"Directions."

By the time he'd parked on the street near the ramshackle building Shawn called his apartment, the anticipation was killing him. He should have cared more that Shawn was living in what was clearly an abandoned laundromat, that the kitchen he had consisted of an old, clearly pre-owned stove and fridge. But, as it was, his focus was almost entirely on the plastic bag Shawn swung in his hand.

He put it up on the counter, and Carlton stepped closer, peeling back the plastic to get a good look at what Shawn had bought. Plastic was wrapped around fresh meat, a butcher's label smoothed over the packaging. "Fresh stuff," Shawn said, sounding awkward. "Wasn't sure what to get, so I thought-"

"Better than nothing," Carlton said just to stop Shawn's rambling. Shawn closed his mouth and nodded. Carlton hefted the cold meat out of the bag, batting it away when it tried to cling to him. Slowly, he came to the realization that he had no idea how best to do this. Shawn watching him wasn't helping. "Stop staring."

Shawn looked down at his sneakers instead. "Sorry. I'm... I'll go watch TV or something." He swept over to the small area designated for his living room. He clambered into a beanbag chair, turning on the small TV and flicking through the channels on his remote until he finally settled on something to watch. Carlton didn't have any illusions that Shawn wasn't paying attention to him, but this way he at least had some measure of privacy.

He smoothed out the plastic bag, moving two cups sitting on the counter to hold down the edges. Carlton rolled his sleeves up and stared down at the wrapped hunk of meat. He knew what he needed, there was no use in denying it now, but the whole idea suddenly seemed to make his stomach turn, nausea battling with hunger and neither coming out victorious, leaving him in limbo.

He peeled off the butcher's sticker and pulled the plastic wrapping back. A smell hit his nose, and when he pulled away his hand, there was a streak of watery red. Carlton closed his eyes and licked it before he could convince himself that he shouldn't.

He didn't need to have done this before to know that it wasn't enough. The blood was as cold as the meat, as cold as him, as cold as death, but at the same time, he felt the need rise within him, demanding that he take what he could get even if it wouldn't satisfy. Carlton ripped at the plastic, tore it away and flung it down. The raw meat was cold and fleshy in his hands, but all he knew was the smell, the promise of what he needed so tantalizingly near.

It was the most natural thing to bite in, his fangs burying themselves in meat and not in a vein as he sucked, pulling blood from the unclean pockets and crevices and towards his waiting mouth. He shuddered at the chill, the unsatisfying taste, his stomach demanding better, more. Carlton clenched it tighter, moving to try and find a better angle. Three times he bit in. Blood rolled down his hands, wrists, arms and from his mouth, dripping from his chin, a cold line crawling down his neck.

He dimly realized that he had dropped the meat and was licking at his hands and wrists, trying to catch every last taste of what came closest to satisfying the need he'd been fighting. He shuddered, needing more, needing the warmth, the spark of life and not finding any in the useless hunk of meat.

It was near, though, and Carlton found himself moving silently towards the thrum, the beating of a heart that sped when it realized it was in danger. Shawn sat up and turned his head, seeing but not believing, not until Carlton's eyes met his. Carlton wasn't sure how the next few moments happened, but Shawn rose to his feet, mouth open and trying to say something though somehow Carlton had silenced him.

He resisted when Carlton drew him into his arms, fighting with everything in him though his body didn't so much as twitch. Carlton clutched him, one arm around Shawn's waist and the other clenching his hair, mixing blood and saliva into his hair product without care. "Say yes," he pleaded, still aware enough to know that he wouldn't continue without Shawn's permission. He bent his head, lips finding a vein with ease, pumping and beating the drum of ancient music, no more in control of itself than Carlton was of his sudden predatory instinct.

"Yes," Shawn breathed.

Carlton scraped his fangs along Shawn's skin, ready to strike, ready to take and take, feasting until the hunger subsided.

He might have gone for it, might have taken it all if not for the sound Shawn made in his throat, a choked, "N...nnn," that he couldn't give voice to. He tried, fighting against the power Carlton held over him, but he was only human.

Carlton blinked dazedly, pulling away to try and get a look at Shawn's face, to make absolutely certain... but he saw Shawn's eyes, wide with fear and his throat working against supernatural powers to recant his forced consent. The predator needed. The hunger raged, snarling and clambering for power, but Carlton looked at Shawn and knew. Knew that even though he'd said 'yes', he'd been trying to scream 'no'.

Before he could ignore that knowledge, Carlton forced himself away, a step at a time until he'd made it to the door. He swept out into the midday sun, hopping into his car and driving away as quickly as he could, needing to put as much space between himself and Shawn – between himself and everyone else – as he could.


	4. Chapter 4

He bought enough meat to feed his entire extended family and drained it all dry. It wasn't enough. Hunger still gnawed at him, urged him to find a more satisfying meal, but Carlton couldn't bring himself to do it. Remembering what he'd almost done to Shawn made him feel nauseous, sick with hate for himself and what he'd become. But even that couldn't stop the memories from rising, the potential of the almost mixing with his need. They found him in quiet moments, striking as suddenly as a snake. Warmth, a fluttering pulse, a breathless promise.

At first, he'd done his best to ignore it. He knew he'd forced that 'yes' out of Shawn though he wasn't sure how. It was disgusting. He was disgusting, too, for giving into it. For letting the memory, letting the thoughts, intrude on him, tormenting him, a single bolt of heat tingling up his spine. It wasn't enough either, the memories no more potent than the weak, lifeless blood he desperately tried to substitute for the real thing.

He couldn't eat. He couldn't get off. And his heightened senses, for all the annoyance they caused him on a day to day basis, did nothing to help him when it mattered.

His knowledge, though, was invaluable. When he stood over the next victim of his serial killer, he knew suddenly why there was so little blood in spite of the gaping wound. The full force of it hit him while he was driving home, and he was forced to pull over, his hands clutching the steering wheel.

Carlton gulped and got out of the car, barely remembering to lock it before he walked away, his hands shaking, rage and hurt swirling in his head. It could have been a coincidence, but Carlton didn't believe in coincidences. He had been singled out, targeted in the most efficient manner possible. Revealing what he knew meant revealing himself. And while he struggled with his new impulses, with his new existence, he was less efficient at his job.

He tucked his hands into his pockets and kept walking, trying to get far, far from the world, from reality. "I should resign," he said to nobody, breathed into the air. He almost expected a response, but the night was silent. Condemning enough on its own, though. His pride, his vanity made sure that he wouldn't step down without a fight. He'd worked too hard, sacrificed too much to give up regardless of the circumstances he found himself in.

Carlton couldn't say that he'd endured worse. But he knew how to lie to himself, and that was almost as good.

He pulled out his phone and quickly called, pulling it up to his ear and waiting nervously for him to either be picked up or rejected. The moment he heard the line open, the first curious syllable of that stupid nickname, Carlton powered through. "The serial killer is a vampire."

Shawn hesitated before answering, "What?"

"The serial killer is a vampire. That has to be how the bodies are being drained. The cut hides the bite marks. The 267 must be his feeding schedule or some other compulsion that he can't break. But it has to be. I'm sure of it."

"No offense, but how serious are you about this?"

Carlton smiled humorlessly, "As the grave, Spencer."

Shawn laughed, obviously delighted that Carlton had taken the bait. Carlton paced restlessly. Shawn considered in silence for a few moments before venturing, "He did break his pattern once though."

Carlton turned quickly on his heel, letting his movements work out his frustration. Finally, he said, "I'm not so sure he did."

Shawn sighed, "Oh. So you think... Of course. That makes sense."

Carlton had made his way back to the car and leaned against it with a frustrated sigh of his own. "As much sense as it can make."

"You'd be surprised," Shawn said surprisingly quickly. "I've been out looking online and researching and trying to weed out the weirdos that drink red-colored Kool-Aid from the real ones like you, and I've found a lot of stuff that makes sense in its own weird way."

"Makes sense to normal people or makes sense to you?"

"Which definition of normal are we using here, Lassie? You've got the whole fangy thing going on..."

"And you're a spastic jackass who claims to have psychic visions."

Shawn laughed again, undeterred by Carlton's view of him. "So I don't think either of us can throw stones. Do you? Anyway, it totally makes sense. In the way vampires and psychics make sense. You'll see."

Carlton's stomach twisted, "I will?"

"Yeah, you should come over!" Carlton almost asked about before, but he tapped his free hand against the car, listening to Shawn ramble on about garlic bread, silver crosses, and other inanities without seeming to have any concern about himself and what had almost happened.

But, unlike Shawn, Carlton's common sense was insistent. "You're sure about...?"

"Just get over here," Shawn said, and Carlton could practically hear his eyes rolling. Carlton wanted to growl at him, remind him what had almost happened the last time they'd been in the same room together, but the line went dead, Shawn's insistent parting order ringing in his ears. Carlton put his phone away and slung himself into his car and knew before he'd even turned the key that he'd be going to Shawn's.

\-----

"You aren't invited in."

Carlton crossed his arms, glaring at Shawn who leaned just on the other side of the doorway, grinning brightly. "What?"

"You aren't invited in. Not yet, Lassie. Which means you can't come in. I can say whatever I want, and you'll have to stay all over there."

"You want to mess with me, Spencer?" He threatened, almost feeling guilty given their previous encounter, but Shawn didn't seem to be at all bothered.

"Why not? Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Carlton stepped through the doorway, still glaring at him. He couldn't help the satisfied smirk he felt spreading on his face when Shawn's eyes widened. He took a step back, and Carlton let his voice get menacing and rough. "What do you think?" Shawn lifted his hands quickly, flattening them, pressed perpendicular to each other. Carlton chuckled, "Not so much on the crosses either."

"Not a cross. Time out." Carlton raised an eyebrow. "No hypnotism stuff," he said. Carlton could hear his heartbeat picking up, nervous and worried, unable to hide itself as easily as Shawn's calm expression did.

"I didn't... Spencer, that was an accident. A mistake. I didn't know what I was doing."

Shawn nodded, "I figured not. But now you do, so let's not do it again. At least not to me." Shawn considered. "At least not without asking first."

Carlton opened his mouth to respond then closed it again with a shake of his head. It was best not to ask. Shawn nodded and pulled his hands down, "Come on, you've gotta see some of the stuff I've found. There's apparently a whole clan in Santa Barbara. Their, like, patriarch or whatever came to California during the Gold Rush to prey on people in the camps. He changed over an entire camp once, took all the gold they'd found, and left them to burn with no shade from the sun."

Carlton winced. "I told you the sun doesn't burn."

Shawn frowned, "Quit ruining all my fun. Ooh, maybe you've changed? Like evolved or something. You've gotten all resistant to sunlight." He glanced at the open doorway, frowning harder. "And trespassing."

Carlton glared at him, "The fact that you intended to taunt me while standing out of reach..."

"Like you expected anything else," Shawn said with a cheeky grin. Carlton, comforted by normality in the midst of the dramatic chaos he'd been fighting, smiled. "Come on. You've gotta see some of these videos. If videos would work." Shawn blinked a few times, his mind and mouth running a mile a minute. "Oh. Mirrors? Vampires aren't supposed to have a reflection. Something about not having a souls. Do you have a soul, Lassie? I mean, I think you do, but-"

Carlton, pushed beyond his limits, covered Shawn's mouth with his hand. That warmth was back, his need great and not ignorable, though he could suffer for the moment for the sake of his sanity. Shawn took a breath, looking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. "I haven't looked in a mirror. I don't want to. I'm..." He shook his head. "I don't want to see if I'm not there."

Shawn tried to talk, but all Carlton could hear was muffled noises, his lips moving against his palm, his breath warm. He glared at Carlton, reached up to pull his hand away, but Carlton easily resisted him. Shawn rolled his eyes, and Carlton knew what was coming only a split second before Shawn's tongue pressed against his palm. Carlton tried to pull his hand away, but Shawn didn't stop, his tongue tracing the lines of Carlton's hand before swirling in a circle. When Carlton's brain caught up with him enough for him to tug his hand away, Shawn leaned forward, chasing it just enough for Carlton to notice.

Carlton's eyes narrowed. He reached out and wiped his hand on Shawn's shirt before pulling his hands off and stepping away. "Bad idea."

"You sure about that?"

Carlton nodded, just a slight dip of his head. "All things considered."

"All things?" Shawn's eyebrows raised, his head tilting up. Carlton's eyes dipped down to the exposed throat, and then he forced himself to turn away.

"Show me what you're going to show me."

"I'm trying," Shawn chuckled, his voice husky and inviting. Carlton turned to him, eyes wide. "I can't stop thinking about it. Not the hypnotism. That part was scary, but the more I think about it." He stepped into Carlton's space again, easy and unafraid. "About what you need." The shiver that tingled up his spine had nothing to do with fear. "I thought I'd be okay, but being this close to you. God, Lassie, I want-"

"No, you don't."

Shawn's smile widened into a grin, "Pretty sure I do. I trust you not to kill me, and you... You won't do it to anyone else." He reached out and grabbed Carlton's hand between his own, rubbing warmth into it. "You need it. And I need you to take it from me. It's been... god, like haunting me or something."

Carlton stepped away, brain battling with the knowledge of what he needed. "I won't do that to you." He knew that somehow he had caused this. It had to be lingering effects of the hypnotism, Carlton's need somehow forcing itself onto Shawn's mind, but Shawn didn't seem to be aware of or care about the particulars.

"You will. Either to me or to someone else." Shawn kept holding his hand, and Carlton didn't pull it out of his grip even though he knew he could. "The animal blood isn't giving you what you need. It'll work and keep you from starving, but if you don't want to feel like, well." Shawn laughed, "Death. Then you need something more. And I'm volunteering, Lassie. Of my own free will."

"You aren't," he said with certainty. "It's the hypnotism. It has to be."

"Either way." Shawn tilted his head up, exposing the line of his neck to Carlton's hungry gaze. "You take me up on my offer, or I'll make sure you can't refuse."

Carlton said weakly, "Why?"

Shawn laughed again, head falling a little more back, the arch of his neck angled for Carlton to take, so temptingly close. "I feel like I'm gonna die if you don't. I need." Shawn shuddered, "God, I need it."

Carlton closed his eyes, trying to push the offer and Shawn's tantalizing closeness away. It only made him more aware of the warmth, the promise of the beat of Shawn's heart. He finally forced himself to say, "If you don't stop, I won't stop myself."

One of Shawn's hands moved up, his pulse fluttering too near Carlton's face as he ran his hand back through Carlton's hair. "Do it. I want it. I want you," he murmured, lips almost brushing Carlton's.

Carlton's eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring into Shawn's hooded eyes, colors darkened with lust, pupils wide as he met Carlton's gaze unflinchingly. Carlton curled his lips back, exposing his lengthened fangs, biting towards Shawn who didn't flinch. His breathing hitched in his chest, eyes widened as he looked at them.

Desire overcame him. Carlton pushed his head down, not kissing his lips. He hadn't earned that, not because he'd found some kink of Shawn's that had gone untapped until now. He trailed down his chin to his jaw, biting gently at the angle of it. Shawn made a low, needy noise in his throat as Carlton pushed him against the nearest wall, kicking the door shut as he found his way down to Shawn's neck.

Shawn's pulse was racing, warm and thrumming just beneath his lips, hidden away by a thin layer of skin that did nothing to protect it. Carlton needed to break it, to take, drink, but he gave Shawn one last chance to tell him no. Shawn whined, his head thrown back. "Good," Carlton murmured approvingly, his lips and fangs gently tracing a vein with that promising, fluttering beat.

Carlton took control of him again, arm around his waist and a hand in his hair, the same as before as he sank his teeth into Shawn's flesh. Shawn gasped, his body going stiff. Carlton sucked desperately and the taste of life flowed into his mouth. It was blood, the same as always, as a split lip or papercut but so much more. The warmth flooded down his throat, spreading through his body, bringing life into him, that fire he no longer possessed.

He also tasted undeniably like Shawn. Carlton wasn't sure what that meant exactly, but he was sure that if he did this to hundreds of others that he'd never find someone that tasted quite like him.

"Lass," Shawn moaned weakly, his hips jerking up against Carlton's. Carlton held him still, determined for just a little bit more. He felt the flames burn away his exhaustion, fatigue, hunger, leaving only arousal and a different sort of need urging him onwards. He licked at the small puncture wounds, ignoring Shawn's grabbing hands as he whined, "Lassie!"

"You doing all right, Spencer?"

Shawn reached for his hands, trying to pull them, but Carlton twisted his own, taking control, pushing Shawn's wrists against the wall. Shawn tilted his head up and forward, catching Carlton's lips with his own, scraping his teeth across Carlton's lower lip as he pushed his hips against his, letting Carlton feel the hard line of his dick and giving Carlton's own arousal equal stimulation. "Touch me," Shawn demanded, snarling against Carlton's lips. "Fucking... oh god, please touch me, Lassie. Pleasepleaseplease."

"I am touching you." He blanketed Shawn's body in his own in order to make a point, effectively immobilizing him. Holding Shawn's wrists with one hand, he ran the other up Shawn's cheek in mock tenderness, curling it in his hair and tugging enough for Shawn to feel it. "Or did you want something else?"

Shawn bit at his lips again, snarling in frustration when Carlton moved his head just out of reach. "Get inside me."

"Been there," Carlton teased, smirking as he worked a thigh between Shawn's, pushing against him, grinding against his cock. "Needy, aren't you?"

Shawn's glare and baring of his teeth broke when Carlton rubbed against him just right. His body arched and writhed as he thrust against Carlton's thigh. "Your _dick_ , Carly." Carlton grinned. "I swear to god," he whined, and Carlton lorded his superior strength, refusing to give Shawn any ground.

"Won't work on me," Carlton murmured. "God doesn't care."

"Never... never was much for religion," Shawn admitted.

Carlton grinned wickedly, pushing himself bodily against Shawn, rutting through their clothes. He pulled Shawn into another heavy kiss, pulled him off the wall and towards the bedroom, stumbling together and his new, superior senses driving them until his legs hit the bed. They fell back together, and Carlton rolled them so he was on top. He pulled Shawn's shirt off, giving him access to his body, warm and inviting. A bruise was already blooming on his neck around the puncture wounds, darkening with each passing moment.

He pulled Shawn's hands up to the wall. "Don't stop touching it," he warned with a growl. "Lube?

Shawn spread his palms against the old wallpaper, arching his body up as Carlton scraped his nails down his torso. "Top drawer. With my socks. And- And. Oh fuck," he groaned as Carlton slowly undid the fly of his jeans. "The- the toy." His face was flushed darkly, arousal and embarrassment. "Later. Someday later, never. Don't care. Need you. Need... Lassie, please," he babbled, Carlton's hand slipping in his boxers, curling around his hard cock.

"Need me?"

He jacked Shawn slowly, watching him writhe between his legs. His hand slipped off the wall, and Carlton's grip tightened. Instantly, it slapped back into position, Shawn's body shuddering with his breath. 

Carlton pulled off the last of Shawn's clothes, shedding his own as he stumbled over to the nearby dresser. He batted the toy to the side, left the drawer ajar as he all but flung himself back on top of Shawn, bringing their hips together, his mouth finding the puncture wounds, his mark on Shawn as his hands fumbled with the lube.

Carlton had barely touched Shawn's side before the other man was moving, twisting himself onto his stomach, his fingers still against the wall. Carlton helped him push his knees up, pushing his ass into the air. "Might be cold," he thought to warn.

"No. N-no, so warm, so hot," Shawn said, pushing his ass up, silently pleading, and Carlton was pushed past his threshold for teasing. He slicked two of his fingers, slowly opening Shawn up, adding more lube. He'd dreamed about this, researched in undeniable curiosity, but it was so much different to have Shawn alive, moaning and needy beneath him. He was vocal, crying out, pleading wordlessly for more. 

Once he slid three fingers into him, he sought out Shawn's prostate, all diagrams and other (more fun) ways of research suddenly flying out from his memory. The exploration ended once he'd found the skin over the gland. Carlton began stroking it until Shawn's back was arched, all coherent words far gone, replaced with noises and syllables that were even more desperate.

"No condom," he warned. Shawn tossed his head, made a few sounds that sounded like 'you're a _vampire_ ' which Carlton took to mean that they were good to go.

He slicked himself up, forcing himself not to get himself off as quickly as possible. Shawn wanted Carlton inside of him – like hell was Carlton going to say no. He positioned himself at Shawn's hole, his hands gentle on Shawn's hips. Shawn settled, his fingers against the wall, head buried in his pillow, legs spread, open shamelessly for Carlton to take whatever he wanted.

A little pressure, and he slid in. Shawn didn't mewl or whine or whimper – he made a breathless gasping noise as he bucked up, trying to find more stimulation. Carlton found himself shuddering, feeling Shawn gripping, tight, hot, and slick around him. Carlton tried to bury himself in it, thrusting his hips forward, deeper without meaning to. Shawn gave a strangled moan, his fingers curling into fists, away from the wall, but before Carlton could do more than growl a warning, Shawn pushed his arms forward, knuckles and the flat tops of his fingers pressing against it instead.

Carlton pulled almost all of the way out before pushing in again, drawing out another long, tortured noise out of him. "More," Shawn managed finally, turning his head so that his sharp eyes could find Carlton's face. Carlton grinned, fangs and all, and thrust again.

It didn't last long, the frenzy of frustration and need driving him faster and rougher, snapping his hips forward into Shawn. Shawn took it all, took his strength and selfish sex while making encouraging noises, pushing back, trying to get more and more for himself too. When Carlton felt the peak of his climax near, he almost expected not to be able to reach it. But something about feeding, about Shawn allowed him to push past the point of inevitability. His body tightened, his world sharpening. Heat, blood, life, friction, need, Shawn's noises, Shawn, Shawn ShawnShawn _Shawn_.

He moaned loudly, his nails digging into Shawn's hips as he rode out his orgasm, coming until it felt like he had nothing else. Carlton pressed his head against Shawn's back, feeling warm sweat against his cold brow. "Please," Shawn moaned brokenly. "Please, please. So. So close. So close," he chanted as Carlton reached around Shawn's hip and took him in hand again.

Precome and sweat slicked his fingers and his palm as he set a fast pace, grinning as Shawn's words broke down again, his hips rolling, thrusting desperately into Carlton's tight grip. "Want to come, Shawn?"

"Yeah," he panted. "Yes, god yes. Yes please please. Oh- oh god, Lassie. Lassie!" He arched, his hands gripping the bedding tightly as his dick pulsed, streaking Carlton's fingers and the bed.

They collapsed together, Carlton's head nudged beneath Shawn's jaw, smelling sex, blood, life. He licked at the puncture wounds again, at his bruise, his mark, suckling against it gently. Shawn hummed contentedly. "That gonna happen every time you feed?" Shawn asked suddenly.

Carlton pulled away enough to peer at his face. "This doesn't have to happen. I can go without."

Shawn nudged his nose into Carlton's hair, nuzzling. "Tell me how good it feels. Tell me then tell me it won't happen again."

Carlton listened to the beating of Shawn's heart, the rhythm lulling, and he knew now that he'd gotten a taste that he'd never be able to say no if Shawn was willing to offer it. "I'm weak," he admitted softly.

"Nah," Shawn disagreed. Carlton could feel his grin against his scalp. "I'm gonna have bruises tomorrow to show you just how strong you are."

Carlton chuckled into Shawn's skin and allowed himself a moment of peace, let himself fall asleep while resting against Shawn, listening to his heartbeat, the inane thoughts he felt the need to voice, and eventually the quiet noises of a man in a sated sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Carlton woke earlier than usual to find himself in bed with Shawn Spencer whose heartbeat and deep breathing urged Carlton to stay and enjoy it while he could. Carefully, gently, he tilted Shawn's head back, exposing the dark mark on his neck. The puncture wounds themselves had already begun to fade, but the bruise would take longer. Days, maybe, and that thought made something primal in him stir. Shawn was his. Carlton rumbled happily, nudging the spot on his neck, licking gently at it. Part of him wanted to break it and drink again, but it wasn't out of a place of need. Carlton was sated, the warmth of Shawn's blood (and sex with Shawn, Shawn's devotion, Shawn's everything) flowing through him still.

He would have never given the idea thought before, but last night had certainly changed things. Shawn had offered himself to help Carlton, and that... that meant more than Carlton could put into words. Even if all it had been about was the masochism and submission for him, Shawn had chosen to put his life in Carlton's hands for Carlton's benefit. Carlton kissed his mark gently.

Shawn shifted in the bed, pushing himself closer to Carlton, and Carlton obliged, pulling the younger – the mortal – man into his arms. He chided himself silently. He didn't know if he was immortal or not, and even if he were, that wasn't to be any concern for whatever this was. He liked Shawn. He was fairly sure of that, had been before he'd lost all his blood and thirsted for more. He hadn't dared guess the extent before last night.

Something in him snarled warningly, reminding him of the idea that Shawn had somehow still been under the hypnosis, still under Carlton's power. Carlton hadn't felt him struggling, not like before, but the idea made him feel unsettled.

He forced himself to leave the bed, Shawn, and the warmth they'd created. He made his way to the kitchen, determined to make sure Shawn understood the depths of his gratitude. Carlton somehow doubted that pancakes would be a suitable thanks, but it might not be a bad start.

By the time Shawn wandered in, Carlton had managed to pile a plate high with what he knew would be enough to satisfy Shawn's own hunger, but Shawn had barely given them a glance before his eyes moved to Carlton. Carlton was already wearing his slacks and his undershirt – the more skin one covered while cooking was generally considered a good thing – but he felt somehow self-conscious about the way Shawn's eyes flicked over him.

Shawn himself was in a pair of underwear with a ninja turtle pattern that would have made him seem much more childish if not for the stubble on his face and the sinful way he sauntered into the kitchen and to Carlton. He touched without asking, a hand on Carlton's hip while the other went behind his neck, pulling him into a warm, soft kiss. Only once they'd parted, Shawn's eyes meeting his with that same look they'd had the previous night did one of them speak. "Mornin'."

"Morning," Carlton said. After a small, embarrassed silence, he added, "I made pancakes."

"Mhm," Shawn grinned lazily. "Thanks. You hungry?" He tilted his head up, exposing his neck and his bruise.

Carlton shook his head, and immediately somewhat regretted it when he saw a flash of panic in Shawn's eyes. "I'm fine, Spencer, and your body needs rest." He cupped Shawn's face with one hand, thumb running over his cheek and trying to soothe him. Shawn leaned into his touch and sighed somewhat happily. Carlton's doubts began to gnaw away at him again.

"You're warmer than yesterday," Shawn told him, turning his head to kiss his palm. "And it's me. I- I gave that to you, and it's..." His smile was dazed, and his eyes seemed to be gazing blankly into the distance. "It's so good."

Carlton agreed, of course, but something about Shawn's attitude was worrying him. "Spencer? You all right?"

Shawn blinked several times, turning his bright smile towards Carlton. "Yeah. Perfect, Lassie. Why?"

Carlton's hand firmed in its grip, pulling Shawn so that he met Carlton's eyes. Carlton had promised, so he held back just enough. "I'm gonna put you under. Not for long. I just... I need to see something."

Shawn's expression turned puzzled. "Carlton? What's wrong?"

"That," he said simply. "Let me in."

Shawn's head dipped in a small nod, and Carlton fell forward. It was easy, so much easier with Shawn's blood inside him, fueling him, warming him. He knew limitless power, knew he could do whatever he wanted, and Shawn would bend for him, would come at his call, would do whatever it took to please him.

Carlton felt sick which was fairly novel for someone just coming to terms with their own death.

He rooted around, following the memories from the previous night back to their source. He found Shawn sitting at his laptop, reading about vampires, his hand slipping into his pants. In the days between, he found more of Shawn's memories, sharp and perfect of the hypnotism, at being at Carlton's mercy, at trusting Carlton even while being terrified. And how the idea of being owned completely hadn't left him alone for a moment. How much he'd needed Carlton to feed off of him, needing to be needed and needing to satisfy Carlton.

The hypnotism itself was sharp even in its blurs. Every shift of the world Shawn had experienced was perfectly recorded, and Carlton could feel the way he'd pulled Shawn in, had him pliant and willing, saying yes even though deep down there had been a cold stab of fear and panic.

Carlton had pulled away, had pulled everything away and ran leaving only an idea that seeded in Shawn's mind, growing and blooming with his own encouragement until he had trapped Carlton and sought his own fulfillment by fulfilling Carlton.

It was, perhaps, that thought that had him pause. An idea flitted through his head, quick and light as a thief. He could ask anything of Shawn now, and Shawn would obey. No distractions, no theatrics, no lies. But Shawn had given him everything freely out of a need that coexisted with his own because of a personal connection they had shared for a long time.

At the thought, he accidentally delved deeper, found himself walking into a familiar interrogation room, expecting commendation and instead finding Carlton sitting, waiting for him. Shawn's initial analysis was over with in the space it took him to take his seat on the opposite side of the table.

If it wasn't psychic prowess, it was something else that was damn impressive, and in his own time, Shawn might be willing to open up to him. Carlton pulled himself away from Shawn, feeling guilty for rifling through his memories.

When he was back to himself, Shawn's smile seemed much more real, seeming to glow as he watched Carlton with fondness. "Thanks, Lassie."

Carlton stiffened, "For what?"

Shawn flitted his eyelashes before setting off for the mountain of pancakes and claiming all but two for himself without anything even resembling shyness. "For not taking advantage of li'l ol' me."

"I'm not that kind of person, Spencer."

"Nah," Shawn agreed, fetching butter and syrup and bringing them to the table. "I know you're not." Carlton settled down with his own plate, determined to taste something even if it did nothing to fill him. "And if you'd watched that slideshow you started a little while longer, you'd know exactly how long I've known." Carlton's eyes widened, and Shawn winked, smirking secretively before he began to devour his breakfast like he hadn't eaten in ages.

Carlton considered pushing for details, but instead he filed a mental note to find out what Shawn would need to live as normally as he could with the blood loss if Carlton were to continue feeding, and he let a warm, fluffy, buttery bite of pancake melt on his tongue.

\-----

The thing about having bad days, as Carlton had learned many times over in the past, was that they made the good days seem that much brighter when they came. In the same way, once he'd made his way home to change and then on to the station, he was completely aware of how good everything felt. It wasn't the same as being alive – if anything, it was better.

The day seemed to pass by in a rush as everything clicked into place. He had taken care of three cases that had been left stagnant due to his fatigue, and he was working hard on several others when he realized that it was almost time for him to go home.

"Good work today, partner," Juliet said, smiling as she stood near his desk. Usually she took off without waiting for him, but Carlton knew she was still concerned about his health. It was amusing, in a way, because he didn't think he'd ever felt better in his life. "Come on, Carlton."

"A few more seconds," he said, trying and failing not to smile when she laughed.

"You feeling better today?" She asked, following diligently after him once he'd turned in his paperwork for the day and started heading for the door. "You look better, less tired, and," Carlton turned to her once they'd exited the station. He only hesitated slightly about touching her shoulder, but the hunger was still at bay, a long ways off from controlling him again.

"I appreciate the concern," he said firmly, "but I'm fine."

She beamed up at him, and Carlton smiled at her in return. "You're sure? You've been so out of it lately. I was starting to get worried."

Carlton pulled his hand away and nodded. "I feel great. See you tomorrow."

Juliet slowly nodded before taking off for her car. Carlton watched her go, letting himself enjoy the feeling of power that coursed through him. He loosened his tie and began walking towards his own car. Now that he knew how to manage the worse parts of his new limitations, he could focus on the serial killer. The person responsible for all of this. The vampire.

He slid into the front seat of his car, taking off, fully intending to go home and do his own research with the beginnings of what Shawn had given him.

\-----

How he ended up at the beach was completely beyond him, but he found himself getting out of the car, purposefully locking the door, throwing his keys into the driver's seat, then closing the door. Carlton blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head and figure out what he was thinking, but he was alarmed to find that he wasn't. Other than the rising panic, his mind was surprisingly clear.

"Addictive, isn't it?" There was someone sitting on the bench, surrounded by a circle of yellow light that lit her short, brown curls, making her look almost cherubic if only Carlton hadn't suddenly sensed that she was more devil than angel. "There's nothing else like it." She turned to look at him, eyes seeming black as she flashed her fangs at him.

Carlton tried to demand answers, but she kept him still, silent, forced to listen and watch as she stretched her arms above her. "I have a few centuries on you, Carlton. You shouldn't take it personally. But you should know, you did very well." She stood, brushing sand off the short, white dress she wore. "Most cave into the hunger within the first 24 hours. Stubborn ones last a little while longer than that, but the fatigue and the hunter's instinct – it breaks them down. But you," she gave him a small insincere smile. "You would have lasted so much longer if not for him."

She sighed as if dreaming, twisting in place, her skirt swirling around her knees. "Imagine if you'd killed him. It would have been so easy, though I see why you kept him. He's going to be such a good pet for you."

Carlton jerked back, visibly flinched, and her eyebrows rose. "Taking that a bit personally, aren't you? It's the truth. Available when you need food." Her smile widened, "When you need company. And you've already done such a good job of training him. Really, you're like a fish to water. I don't have anything to teach you. Seems like you'll figure it all out on your own."

"I don't have anything to learn from you," he growled, feeling his fangs lengthen as he struggled against her power.

She tilted her head slightly, and Carlton stiffened. "Impressive, Detective. But, you see, I arranged this meeting for a reason." She toyed with his tie before wrapping it around her hand and pulling him forward and down to her level. "I turned you. You belong to me. And either you can do as I say like a good boy, or I'll make you pay."

Carlton released the air in his lungs, huffing in her face, the only rebellion he could successfully manage.

She laughed. "First, it'll be your mother. I'll bleed her dry, then send you to find the body. Then, it'll be your partner. I'll make you do that one, let her see just what you are before I have you kill her. And then, if you keep resisting, it'll be him. He won't even see it coming, won't even know until it's too late."

She allowed Carlton to nod. "You won't allow them to find out we exist. You won't reveal yourself or me. And, most importantly, you will not lead them to me. You misdirect them. If someone takes the case from you, you sabotage."

"Why?"

She smiled. "Because that's what I told you to do, and I expect my children to obey." She caressed his face softly, running her thumb over his lips as her palm cupped his cheek. "I'll expose you in a heartbeat. I'll make you turn on them, attack them until they try to put you down. You'll try to resist, I'm sure, sweetheart, but I'll win. When they discover that you don't die, what will they do, do you think? Try and capture you. Make you talk. Interrogation – we know that dance, don't we? Only this time they'll be afraid." She released his tie and smoothed his suit back to perfection, even tightening the knot on his tie from where he'd loosened it before.

"You're so angry with me," she murmured, her voice gentle even as her words cut through him. "You'll see someday, dear. It's all for the best."

She made him sit on the bench and watch the water for long minutes, unable to move even the slightest bit. Carlton's head sagged forward, his entire body going lax the moment she cut his strings. He stood and moved, eyes searching the dark and finding nothing. Like she hadn't been there at all.

After a long moment of contemplation, he grabbed his cellphone and dialed Shawn. "Hey, Lass. What's up?"

"I locked my keys in my car," he said, forcing himself to omit the rest. It was best if Shawn didn't know. Not yet, anyway. The less Shawn knew, the less he could go poking his nose into dangerous nooks and crannies that might actually get him killed. Carlton shuddered at the thought.

"I'll be there in like two seconds," Shawn said after Carlton gave him the address.

Carlton closed his eyes and collapsed against the hated bench, trying to block out her words when she had called Shawn a pet. On the one hand, if she wanted him to be alone, she had found the one, certain way of making him abandon the only person who could possibly understand. On the other, if she had anticipated that, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction.

He paced around the bench, enjoying the freedom of movement even though fear had burrowed deep and settled within him. He snarled unhappily, needing some way to fight back and finding nothing. Carlton kept pacing, debating, thinking until he heard the roar of Shawn's motorcycle. He couldn't even take comfort in that, in Shawn and the normality to the chaos he brought with him, and that made him despair. He was truly alone, a monster with nowhere to turn. If he'd doubted that before, he couldn't now. Not when there was a price to pay for reaching out and having hope.

\-----

Carlton had never been especially adept at lying, but somehow, he managed to get through the next several hours without giving himself away. He flinched from Shawn's eagerness to help but felt too weary to do much except accept his offer.

But when he made it back to his apartment, he had urged Shawn to leave. Time alone was probably the last thing he needed, but if he was going to keep himself composed, then he had to have time to pull together all of his information and plan. It didn't help that their killer – the woman with the curly hair; Angel, he'd dubbed her without meaning to, grimacing at the irony – was due to strike before the next day cycled through. They'd be on high alert, guarding the citizens and keeping a sharp eye out.

And he? He had to let it happen.

He drank almost the entire bottle of scotch he kept on hand for when he needed something to take the edge off of the worst days. He felt nothing. Carlton closed his eyes, barely resisting the urge to slam the bottle into the cabinet or throw it against the wall. He could feel the urge rising in his veins again, singing the siren song of the hunt. Of a fight, he thought, that he couldn't be a part of.

"I'll resign," he said again, but then he imagined the case being handed to Juliet or to another detective who would wake up a monster, and he knew he couldn't do it. He couldn't risk putting someone else into this hell just to spare himself the worst of it.

With a new determination, he found himself moving towards his bathroom, yanking the towel off the medicine cabinet from where he'd covered it out of fear of seeing himself. Carlton stared at his reflection. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken and blazing with the fires of hell. His fangs were longer than they'd ever been before, and they weren't alone. His other teeth had sharpened too. He reached up, his nails purpleblack, clawlike in the reflection.

That, he thought with grim satisfaction, was what he was up against in its purest form. Mirrors, he had sensed from the start, would always show the truth.

Carlton tilted his neck up, exposing the dark veins on the underside of his neck, his bite showing as plainly as the bruise he'd left on Shawn. He released the breath he'd been holding and turned quickly and went to grab his holster and his gun. There had to be a way to end this without him being the puppet of a serial killer. He took off his tie, unhooked a few of the top buttons on his shirt, and shrugged on his suit jacket.

Shawn said there was a whole clan in Santa Barbara. Carlton had to find them as fast as he could and hope and maybe pray – if God listened to the prayers of the damned – that there was at least one person who wanted Angel gone as much as he did.

\-----

He had no idea how he was supposed to go about tracking down another vampire. Asking seemed like the most likely way to get picked up by his own officers and forced to gave an awkward conversation with Karen about what he really did in his personal time. He knew she had her doubts about him already. Carlton didn't need to give her any more reasons to think that he'd lost his marbles.

He'd tried scouting a few bars and nightclubs to no avail. Every time he began to have a sneaking suspicion about one of the patrons, it would suddenly be squashed by his common sense, by the drink in their hand, the way they lounged or danced with humans, by so many things that made him suddenly sure that he was imagining all of it.

So when he ended up at work the next day, another death day, he was feeling more agitated than he had since before he'd fed. He could feel the first pangs of hunger gnawing at him again, but he couldn't bring himself to be concerned about it. For all he knew, it might be days or weeks before it became a pressing need rather than an irritation. 

Carlton mastered putting his own needs behind the demands of his work a long time ago, and it wasn't going to change just because he needed blood instead of food and sleep. By the time he made it to the station, it was buzzing with life, their preparations for the night intermixed with the other caseloads they were carrying.

"You seem distracted," Juliet noted as she brought him his morning coffee. Carlton nodded, staring at the map of their victims. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Carlton had many, but none of them that he could voice just then. "Our killer," he said carefully, not wanting to give Angel any reason to fulfill the promises she'd made, "has such a wide variety of victims that it's impossible to protect them all. Chances are, we're looking at another body tomorrow. The feds are going to get involved very soon." Which meant the case was out of his control, and he would suddenly find himself forced to sabotage or face the consequences.

"The more people we can get looking for him, the better. Even if it means working with others."

Carlton made a noncommittal grunt. She was right, of course, and part of him rejoiced at the idea that it would be out of his hands and taken care of. But then he remembered what Angel was capable of. Her spell had been too strong to cast off, and he supposed he had more strength than the average human against that sort of thing. Even if the feds found her, had her cornered, and knew exactly what to do, she could waltz right by them, and all they'd ever think was that they'd seen a pretty face.

Suddenly, Carlton realized why he hadn't been able to pick out any vampires the previous night. He thumped his fist against the desk he was leaning on, trying to remember how he'd reasoned himself out of picking out others of his own kind. It had to be some sort of cloak, protection against people who didn't know.

But he knew. He knew what Angel was and who she was. She'd never be able to slip past him, and if he could just make them understand too...

_I'll expose you in a heartbeat._

Carlton slumped against the desk. "Carlton?" Juliet had been watching him with fascination as he cycled quickly through his thought process before giving up again. "What is it?"

Carlton silently lamented that he wouldn't be able to get drunk ever again when that was clearly what he needed. "We need all the help we can get," he said glumly. Yes, the feds would be in on this soon if they weren't already on their way, but there was nothing they could do. All the practical training and fieldwork in the world couldn't prepare them for this.

Lord alone knew it hadn't done anything for him.

"I don't want anyone else to die."

Juliet, who had never had the pleasure of seeing Carlton with all of his walls down, took too long to recover from his cold, numb words. By the time she had, he was grabbing another file off his desk. He couldn't stop Angel. Couldn't, and he hated that some part of him was so weak as to accept it without more of a fight. But there were other criminals, other deaths. But justice now seemed like a fairy tale, a lie he had been willing to believe in until he had been forced to really open his eyes.

It left a bitter taste in his mouth as he went through the rest of the day, marching helplessly towards another death that he couldn't help but feel responsible for.

\-----

The patrols didn't see anything, and why would they? Angel appeared to be a normal woman outside of the age bracket for the curfew and completely out of their profiler's guesstimate of the killer. He could hope that someone would find her suspicious, would call it in, and he could do his best to put her down before anyone else died. But it was pointless wishful thinking that didn't change the reality of his unfortunate situation.

The radio chatter was fairly standard for most of the night, but sometime after four, there was a call. A body had been found near one of the first crime scenes. Drained, slit, forensics were already on their way. Carlton began driving towards the address, locked in, needing to examine the body with new eyes of experience. The parking complex where one of the first victims had been found was only a few streets over from the parking lot where the new one was. He made a note of it as they arrived, thinking that he needed to come back around this part of town and desperately search for someone else who knew what was going on, someone who wasn't Angel to give him some concrete advice on how to deal with a vampire, an ally who wasn't vulnerable to Angel's power.

But, for now, he had a crime scene to examine. Knowing the identity of the culprit wasn't a luxury he ever had – evidence had to lead to the perp not the other way around. And now he knew. Angel hadn't left any ambiguity in her warnings; she had to be the one responsible. But even if every piece of evidence screamed her name at him, he couldn't do a thing about it without risking more innocent lives. That they'd be taken by his own hand made him sneer, clamping down on the cold hatred and letting it burrow deeper inside of him.

The parking lot would have been mostly empty if not for the officers already parking near it, trudging closer to convene, collect evidence, take pictures of the crime scene. Carlton saw the blue Echo parked not too far away. He inhaled sharply but kept his calm as he parked and got out of the car.

Juliet frowned, said, "It's not like them to be here this early."

"They knew tonight was a death night. Must have been up listening to a police radio."

"Or Shawn had a vision."

Carlton glared at her. Juliet shrugged and turned her eyes towards the crime scene. Carlton followed her gaze, spotting Gus as he edged away from the crime scene, looking pale as he covered his mouth. Carlton couldn't see Shawn which was often more concerning than being able to keep an eye on him. He quickly made his way to the parking lot, Juliet on his heels.

He spotted Shawn on the periphery of the scene, chatting quietly with one of the uniforms but otherwise staying out of the way. Carlton would have escorted him off the scene, but as far as Shawn's intrusions went, this was one of the easiest to dismiss. At least he wasn't contaminating the crime scene or causing a commotion yet.

The victim was a boy, his dark skin pale and face smoothed into a serene expression that contrasted sickeningly with the blue tint to his lips and the deep gash opening his throat. The smell hit him suddenly, the sense-memory of feeding on Shawn filling in the gaps, making him know the approximate taste, the way he'd gone lax and eager in her arms. He banished the thoughts with a quick shake of his head.

He almost expected her to slip, to leave fingerprints or a trail of blood or a hint of her own DNA to test him. He didn't realize that she had until another thought caught him off guard, imagining the way her fangs slid into his throat, and he had been so stupid before not to think of swabbing his neck to see if there were traces of saliva. It was another thing the gash had hidden, and something he couldn't bring up.

Agonized, he stood and continued assessing the crime scene. It was as immaculate as the others. He could feel the frustration ripple through the gathered officers, and he could sympathize. Could only hope that none of them would ever have to know how it felt from his side.

A loud voice broke the relative quiet of those gathered, Gus exclaiming, "Man, what do you think you're doing?"

Carlton's heart would have stopped if it were still beating. He slowly turned. Shawn was baring his teeth, biting towards Gus, holding him captive by his arm. "It's a vision," he stage-whispered, making sure everyone nearby knew exactly what he wanted them to. "It's, it's about Julius here-"

"Julian," Carlton corrected flatly.

"Juju," he continued seamlessly, "as he preferred to be called – his murderer wasn't a surprise. They were right up on him – I'm feeling some steam." He ducked closer to Gus, breathed out, "Feeling the heat."

"Not from me, you're not." Gus pushed him away, and Shawn reeled, fingers at his temples before his hands slid down to his neck.

Carlton hardly realized he was moving until his hand was on Shawn's nape, yanking him back and meeting his eyes. He could feel the lingering connection between them, and he surged over it, commanding him to stop. When he let go, Shawn was standing still, blinking up at him, eyebrows lowered as if he were trying to puzzle something out.

"Shawn?" Juliet ventured.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't know what I was talking about."

"Carlton," she said, and he turned to her, challenging, and there was a spark of _something_ before she too fell silent, turned her attention to the body again while Shawn trotted back over to Gus.

He felt his stomach turn with the sudden knowledge of how easy it would be to follow Angel's orders, to silently sabotage his coworkers without them suspecting a thing. They went back to work; Carlton was too distracted to be of much use, and he hated himself for it.

Julian's death seemed to fade into the background, a detail instead of a person, and it made his stomach sink like a stone when he realized it, when he saw the restrained panic as Julian's mother insisted that her son couldn't have been killed. That he'd been in his room all night. When she went to check, Carlton allowed himself to flinch, hands curled into tight fists when she returned, tears already running down her cheeks as she demanded to know what happened.

Carlton knew. Had experienced it himself firsthand. He lied, "We don't know the details at this time."


	6. Chapter 6

"Carlton," Karen's voice pulled him from the crowd. "These are the federal agents who have been assigned to help find the serial killer. Please help them any way you can."

He shook the hand of the older partner first, a woman in her forties with sharp features, near-black eyes, and brown skin. "Nita Alvarez," she introduced herself coolly. "And my partner, Elias Georgio." He was a little taller than her, black hair slicked back away from his face and a scar nicking the right side of his upper lip.

"My Head Detective Carlton Lassiter and his partner Detective Juliet O'Hara – they've been running point on this case until now, and they'll be more than happy to help."

"So long as we don't step on any toes," Alvarez said, meeting Carlton's gaze and sizing him up. Under different circumstances, Carlton might have taken on the challenge she presented, given her a run for her money and competed to be the best detective on the case. But that reality seemed like it had been a lifetime ago.

"By all means, if you can get this maniac off our streets, then do."

Karen tilted her head slightly, lips pulled into a thin smile as if she couldn't tell if he were being sarcastic. "If we're dismissed, Chief?"

"Of course. Get to work."

He led them to his desk, prepared to give it all up without a fight, but they took what they needed and retreated to one of the unused meeting rooms. Carlton and Juliet followed hesitantly. "That was big of you," she ventured. "Are you sure you're feeling okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, lying again. "Believe it or not, I don't feel the need to compete with every other detective that waltzes into my station."

Juliet huffed in a quiet laugh, "Just Shawn?" Carlton shrugged noncommittally. "I wish you'd have let him get through what he was channeling earlier. It might have been important."

"Or he could have contaminated the crime scene before we'd gathered all of our samples and pictures and been a huge waste of time and taxpayer money. Even moreso than he usually is."

"You shouldn't talk about Georgio like that. He starts to take it personally."

Carlton and Juliet's heads shot up to see Alvarez reorganizing their files and writing important notes to herself on different sticky notes. She didn't once break out of her concentration, though it was clear that she had to have been the one who had spoken. Her partner was laughing quietly, his hand covering his mouth.

"Sorry. Talking about our station's consultant. No doubt you'll be meeting him soon."

If he could have come up with a list of unlikely and yet the worst possible scenarios, he would have arrived at Dealing With Spencer At Work Days After Weird Sex And Not Knowing Where We Stand But I Think It Might Happen Again. He would have missed points for both the vampire angle and the introduction of two people he did really want to impress without any time to acclimate to any of those three factors, but it wasn't very far off to say that he had arrived in what was surely a circle of hell.

"The psychic?" Carlton's head jerked towards Georgio. "It was a long plane ride," he explained. "And we prefer to be prepared in as many ways as possible."

"No matter what you read," Carlton promised, "you won't be prepared to meet Spencer face to face."

Alvarez laughed, "You make him sound like a force of nature."

"Sounds like Shawn," Juliet said.

"Can he help? I think that's the important question." Georgio looked between the two of them, expression calm.

"I think he can. He has before."

"Lassiter?"

Carlton pressed his lips tightly together before he admitted, his voice quiet, "Spencer is an annoyance and a liability, but I would be lying if I said he didn't help a great deal more than I ever expected he would when we first met."

"Then we look forward to meeting him," Alvarez said before waving them in. "I need you both to answer some questions for me."

Carlton nodded, took a seat with Juliet settling into the one beside him, and they got to work.

\-----

He found a bar several blocks away from the two correlating crime scenes, tucked away with darkened windows and a single neon sign that read _Sun's Rest_. It seemed too unimportant to bother exploring, but that was exactly why he needed to. He left his badge and gun in the car; a gut feeling told him they wouldn't be of much use where he was going.

The bar was very simply decorated, framed photographs on the walls above booths and tables, the bar itself stretching long, with open and inviting stools lined up and many already taken by patrons who chatted back and forth with one another and the others who filled the room. He was decidedly out of place.

The barkeep was a short woman with big, brown eyes and red hair that curled around her shoulders and down her back. Her voice lilted as she asked, "You're sure you're in the right place?" She raised an eyebrow, a metal ring glinting in the soft, yellow light that made the atmosphere feel cozy, comfortable.

"I'm pretty sure," he said, raising his own in return.

She was nonplussed, red lipstick turned into tilted smile. "We're a small, exclusive venue. I can tell when someone's not on the list just by looking at them. So maybe, for both our sakes, you should turn around and go back to your wife and kids."

Carlton's eyes narrowed, lip curling in a sneer, and he reached for that something that he'd had earlier, the presence, the power. The girl's eyes narrowed, and he felt it thrown back at him, a physical clash that had him taking a step back. But he lifted his chin, weathered the storm until she relented. At least he knew he was in the right place.

"Casey McCauley," she introduced. "You have a name, little daddy?"

He hesitated at that nickname, at the idea of giving his identity away, but she pursed her lips and leaned forward with a tilt of her head. "Carlton. Carlton Lassiter."

"I see." She stood, flipping her hair over one shoulder as another person at the end of the bar held a hand up, ordered. Casey bustled about her domain, mixing the guy up a drink as she said, "I believe you have some explaining to do."

Carlton looked nervously around the room. Were they all like them? Another quick glance revealed that there wasn't a single mirror in the entire bar. "Here?" He asked, voice quiet.

Casey turned her eyes back to him, smile widening, "Aw, little daddy, you're not used to this yet. We're all kindred spirits here. Some of us more than others. Most of us more than you." Carlton stared at her. She tutted lightly with a sympathetic smile. "I'd love to explain it to you, but I've got a bar to run. See Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding over in the corner?" She gestured. He nodded, seeing the man sitting at the far corner table by himself. "You'll want to go talk to him first, and he can probably fill in a lot of your blanks." She winked, "I can get the remainder for you when you're ready."

He was reluctant to turn his back on her, but he did. He walked across the room to where the other vampire was sitting, watching him with almost as much cautious disdain as Carlton himself felt. "Sit," he said unceremoniously, kicking the chair across from him out before sitting up, dark eyes trained on Carlton's face. "You're new." He held up a hand before Carlton could confirm, asking, "Do you know who's responsible for you?"

Carlton growled, "I'm responsible for myself."

The guy was unphased, "The person who turned you. Who made you into the monster that you are. Do you know who did it?"

Carlton shook his head, clasping his hands on the table. "No. I know who she is, but not her name or where to find her."

He scowled. "Great. Another newbie we have to teach the ropes."

"I can manage."

"Can you?" He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed into slits as he said, his voice clipped and agitated, "Because in all of my experience, a fledgling who isn't taught ends up killing someone, ends up being messy with it, ends up bringing a lot of people into this when they don't need to, and that's assuming they don't somehow alert hunters first and every vampire in the city ends up with wooden stakes coming out of our asses. They're a liability."

Carlton ignored the turn of bitterness, sticking instead to the hard, comforting facts. "I've fed without killing, and the person who gave it to me was willing. I've experimented safely with some of the mind game bullshit, and I'm not in any danger of alerting anyone to the change in my mortality."

"It'd be better for you and easier if you were part of the clan. Even if you aren't strongly affiliated, knowing someone has your back if you need help is a huge plus and all for the cost of staying out of trouble." He shrugged, "Think of us as the police. We keep the peace, we find out who isn't holding up their end of the bargain, and we make sure they're punished."

Carlton couldn't help the rage that burned through him as he asked in a forced-even tone, "Then would you mind telling me why the woman who killed me has claimed enough victims to be considered a serial killer?"

The guy, for the first time since Carlton sat down, visibly flinched. "You're hers."

Carlton clenched his jaw. "No. I want nothing to do with her."

He considered, "You're hers _and_ you're a cop. I'll bet that's not a coincidence."

"I'm not hers." He wasn't going to confirm or deny the guy's suspicions about him, preferring to coast by safely on ambiguity.

He wasn't bothered. "You are. You shared her blood when she passed this on to you. Blood binds us to our prey and to our kind. Denying its importance is, frankly, stupid."

"Great," Carlton said flatly. "But none of that answers why she's still free as a bird when your supposed 'vampire police' are supposed to be adept at handling your kind when they get out of line. Which is my most immediate problem and I need it to be solved quickly."

"Take care of her yourself."

"I can't," he snarled. The guy raised an eyebrow, casting a casual glance over the rest of the bar. Carlton took the hint and settled. "I can't," he repeated stiffly, quieter. "She's threatened people close to me. If it were just me on the line, I would have." He sighed, "I'm the detective working on the case. She got to me maybe two weeks ago. Maybe a little more. I don't need someone to train me. I don't need your time and resources, I just need help getting rid of her." He brushed his hand back through his hair, digging his fingers into his scalp in frustration. "I can take care of the rest of it myself."

After a moment of consideration, he said, "Jin Lam."

Carlton's head shot up, meeting his eyes. Jin held out his hand and Carlton quickly took and shook it. "Carlton Lassiter."

"I can tell we're on the same side, Carlton. The vampires bonded through our family line," he gestured with a quick wave of his hand to indicate the others in the bar, "have been looking for a way to get to her since the first body showed up. We've failed immensely even to curb her insatiable appetite. But I think we know the reason." He steepled his fingers together, leaning back in his seat. "When you came in, Casey didn't know you."

"I've never seen her before."

Jin's smile was thin, "Almost every vampire in Santa Barbara belongs to our family. We're bound by blood, and our individual lines rarely stretch far enough to break. To find an outsider is rare. But you and the bloodline that created you are so far removed from ours that we don't know you. You aren't part of us. That's how she's been able to avoid us."

"Perfect," Carlton growled. "Just perfect. So when you can't find someone, what do you do?"

Jin considered. "It may not come to that. She's given us a perfect method to track her down."

"You mean me."

"Exactly. But that all depends – how willing are you?"

Carlton didn't even pause. "I'll do anything it takes."

Jin smiled, and Carlton saw the glint of light on his fangs. "Good." He pushed himself to his feet, and Carlton saw the other vampires in the room turn their heads, keenly aware of their movements. Carlton felt suddenly completely outnumbered, claustrophobic. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" he hesitated, but Jin gave a bored look, gestured to the back room, and Carlton rose to his feet, his stomach twisting into knots as he braced himself. "What's going on?"

"Follow me," he repeated. He turned to walk away and Carlton reluctantly followed, not far behind him and trying to keep an eye on everything until it was clear that he couldn't. They came to a halt.

"What in the name of-"

"Hush," Jin ordered, and Carlton's mouth closed. "Casey, come here. Now, Lassiter, what we're doing is binding you to us. We'll be able to find you and vice versa. We'll be able to help." Casey took his arm and plunged a claw into hand, slicing along it before doing the same to her own. She clasped their hands together, and Carlton's head reeled as he became aware of all the others in the room.

"Second," he stepped close, and his hands landed on Carlton's temples. He put up as much resistance as he could, but it seemed to do little to no good, as meaningless as a cobweb that Jin swept aside. "I'm going to lock most of these memories away. You'll remember them, but if she tries to see them or extract them from you, she'll fail." Carlton's mind tightened, and he struggled to keep his balance.

Casey's arm went around his waist as she drew his arm over her shoulders. She murmured, "You'll be fine, little daddy. We're almost there."

"Lastly," Jin concluded, "you need to know the difference between her and every other vampire. Next time you see her, pay attention to how she feels, her presence. If you do, you should be able to tell her apart from us."

He spoke, his words slow and feeling hazy, "How would I even arrange-"

"We'll take care of that," Jin promised. "This'll hurt. Is that a problem?"

Carlton cut through the fog to meet Jin's eyes, seeing the way they went completely black, even darkening the whites. "No. It's not."

Claws struck him, raking down his shoulders and back as teeth, sharp and tough tore into the meat of his other bicep, shredding the cloth like it was paper. The one that hurt worst was Jin, who tilted his neck up to sink his fangs into Carlton's throat. He felt the last of his borrowed warmth start to seep out of him as Jin tore a chunk of flesh off his neck. He spat it to the side and reminded him, "We're your allies, Carlton. I'll explain all of this after we get what we need. When the danger is over."

Carlton snarled, his fangs long and sharp and ready, but then the world spun and went black around him.

\-----

A mind pressed into his, a more unforgiving presence than Jin's. It dug through him with steel claws, shredding everything as it searched and searched for what it could not find. "Who did this?" The hateful voice snarled, "Who hurt you, dear? Who did this to you?" He groaned as she dug her claws into his neck, either reopening a wound or creating a new one. She tried to force the answer out with a twist that made him feel every agonizing mark on him.

He searched for an answer, panicked and pained but found nothing. Tried to speak, but the words were too far away. Angel got the idea. "Is that what you call me, sweetheart?" He groaned. "I like it. And an angel I'll be." She pulled her claws out. She said something about his pet, and he strained to listen, but it was so difficult to keep paying attention, to think about anything besides staying awake, not letting her kill him again.

She dropped his head back to the concrete, and Carlton held on long enough to feel when she slipped away, the feeling of his death so stark and vivid and yet fading with every step Angel took away from him. He clung to the memory and sank back into unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

He jolted awake, bolted upright and immediately regretted it. He was disoriented, the world spinning around him. Fatigued and dizzy and _angry_ at having been used as bait without his consent or knowledge beforehand. Carlton's fangs lengthened, his fingers gnarling as his nails thickened, hardened, sharpened into claws.

"Lassie?"

Carlton turned to look, seeing Shawn standing in what was undeniably his own apartment. He'd only been here a few times, but the memories he had were fairly stark, unmistakably memorable. Shawn was in a white t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants and looking at him with a decidedly worried look on his face.

Carlton asked, "How did I get here?"

Shawn didn't walk closer, eyes moving between Carlton's face and where his claws were still sharp on his fingers. "I don't know, dude. I got a text from your phone with an address, and you were all beat up in the passenger seat, and I didn't know what to do, so I brought you here where I could keep an eye on you." He crossed his arms, "Do you have any idea how stressful it is to try and make sure someone's still alive when they're technically dead? You don't have a pulse, you stopped breathing sometimes. I was worried sick. What the hell happened to you? Was it him?"

"No." He found himself calming, thinking back to the bar and Jin's assurance that Carlton could trust him before the vampires had fallen on him like a pack of wolves on easy prey. "It- it was _for_ her." Carlton breathed out, closing his eyes and searching for that feeling, the last thrum of life and the desperate need to survive, to live before it was snuffed out.

Something in him pulled, instinct leading him, and Carlton's eyes opened before turning back to Shawn. "I'm fine, Spencer," he assured him.

"You don't look fine." He grimaced and stepped closer, touching Carlton gently and tilting his head up, examining the injury Jin had given him, the territorial bite. Carlton reached up himself and felt the curve of skin that had been bitten off of him, healing steadily. The hurt pulsed through him. Shawn hissed through his teeth. "The others don't look that bad at least."

"The others," he prompted, needing to know what he meant.

Shawn touched his neck a few inches over, fingers brushing over two other marks he didn't remember getting. "These." Carlton's skin crawled, imagining Angel seeing Jin's mark on him, needing to wipe it away with a reminder of who he belonged to. He stepped away from Shawn and covered his neck with his hand, not wanting to think about her lips on his neck, her fangs sinking into him. The first time had been enough for him. "Two questions, all right? One, what happened? And two, who's 'her'?"

"She's the killer. The one who made me a vampire. I went to this vampire bar to look for help from someone who knows about this shit, and they needed to bait her. I needed to be near her."

"So she's dead?"

"No," Carlton said, forcing himself to take a deep breath, forcing himself to calm. It hurt, but he understood it now, the logic of the situation and what it had left him with. He had no idea how to find Jin or Casey to let them know that he'd taken care of the problem, but he could head over to the Sun's Rest again. He moved, intending to go, but the world swam before his eyes, and he sank back down on Shawn's couch. "No, but we can find her. Which is a hell of a lot more than Alvarez and Georgio are going to be capable of without supernatural bullshit on their side."

"The feds came in."

"Yes," he said, his head in his hands as the weariness and weakness of his body fought with the urge to fight, to protect himself, to avenge.

"A lot happened today." Carlton's back went ramrod straight as Shawn pushed him back, straddled his lap.

After a beat of silence, Carlton demanded in a low growl, "Do you want me to rip your throat out?"

"I'd prefer if you didn't," Shawn said, settling on his thighs. "You need to eat. It'll help."

"Spencer, I don't have time to scratch whatever masochistic itch-"

"Then don't," he interrupted, hands clutching the back of the couch as he glared down at Carlton. "We don't have to bang. I mean, you don't even have to hang around after. Things to do, justice to bring – I get it. But you stumbling around like a little baby horse isn't going to win you any hero medals. And maybe that's all up in your macho-man thing where you don't want to need anyone, but you have to eat. You can't show up at work tomorrow looking like this, and you can't go take down 'her' when you can't even walk straight."

"It's only been a few days," Carlton insisted, his hands coming up to land on Shawn's shoulders, though he didn't push him back.

"I really don't care."

"You do, though. You do care about me, about this." Carlton's eyes narrowed, distrustful. "Why?"

Shawn met his eyes for a moment before they fell away, focused on the tie he looped around one of his hands. "Honest truth?"

"For once."

Shawn looked up at him with an exasperated smile and tugged the tie gently. His eyes dropped again, and it seemed like long minutes until he spoke. "Because you're one of the good guys. We argue and fight and irritate the hell out of each other, but that's just the way we are. It's fun. Or it has been from me, and I get the same vibe from you even though you don't want it to be about fun or a personal connection, and man, I get it. Feelings get gross and complicated and people get hurt. But at the end of the day, I do care about you. You're an important part of my life, and I'd do almost anything to keep you around."

"Because I'm convenient," he clarified bitterly, sitting up slightly. "You know how to work with me and work the system around me."

"No." Shawn pushed him back down with as much force and authority as he could muster. "Because you're important. Because you want to be Clint Eastwood, and you care what everyone thinks about you no matter how hard you try to hide it, and because you don't ignore me and let me do whatever I want because you care. You trust me. When the weirdest shit in your life happens, you come to me first. I could learn a different detective probably in about three weeks. But they'd never be you."

Carlton was at a loss for words, unsure if he were taking Shawn's words too seriously or perhaps not seriously enough. "Oh."

Shawn breathed out, evenly, keeping himself calm, Carlton realized. Then he said, "You need this, and I'm offering. It doesn't have to be anything more than that. A friend helping a friend."

"Is that what we are?"

Shawn's smile tilted. "We can hash out the details later, right?"

Carlton nodded, had to ask one last time, "You're sure?"

Shawn chuckled and leaned forward, murmuring warmly in his ear, "Bite me, Lass."

He tilted his head, finding the vein with surprising ease. Before he could think, hesitate, wonder, his fangs were lengthening, and Shawn shuddered at the scrape across his delicate skin. Carlton sank his fangs in, eyes closing at the bliss that came with the warmth and comfort Shawn gave, the life flowing into him with every greedy movement of his throat, lips, tongue.

He could feel the flutter of Shawn's pulse as if it were his own, thrumming through his veins. Carlton pulled his fangs back, and in spite of his many numerous misgivings, his hands slid up Shawn's thighs, mouth pressed to his fang marks with a pleased growl. Shawn arched his body, head tilted back as his hips rolls against Carlton. He was so hard in his pajamas, an obscene tent distending the fabric.

Carlton had him on his back in a moment, Shawn's legs sprawled shamelessly apart to admit him as his hand snaked into his pajamas, massaged him through his underwear before reaching in to get his hand on Shawn's dick. Heavy, hard, desperate for his attention – as desperate as Shawn himself was.

Carlton needed him, his touch, his attention, his submission. Shawn's hands landed on his neck, fingers raking into his hair as his mouth opened, and Carlton kissed him, slid his tongue against Shawn's. One arm braced Carlton above Shawn, but the other scrambled long enough to free his own aching cock from its prison. They rocked against one another, cocks sliding together, almost as filthily intimate as the way he explored Shawn's mouth, sucked gently on his tongue while they tangled, slid, until Shawn was gasping for air.

His hazel eyes were dark when they fluttered open, fixing on Carlton intently before he drew Carlton's free hand up. His tongue laved over the palm, up his fingers, and Carlton growled as the understanding hit. He pushed his hand down and pulled both of them into his fist, jacking them steadily together before they were both bucking a fast, hard pace together, both of them moaning.

Carlton growled into Shawn's skin, grabbing onto the feeling of closeness, of belonging together, fabricated from his feeding but nonetheless, in that moment, true. He clung to it, to Shawn, even as his claws embedded in Shawn's couch, his fangs extended and nicking his skin. He scraped them down Shawn's throat, hearing him moan and feeling it through his lips, and Carlton thrust forward and urged Shawn harder, faster.

"Fuck, Lassie-!"

Carlton gave a wicked, feral grin and pressed it into Shawn's skin, pushing the sensations over their connection, of him warm and feeling so fucking good, and Shawn bucking beneath him, body already trembling eagerly. Carlton tightened his fist and stroked faster, snarling into Shawn's neck. They spiraled tightly together, winding higher and higher until there was a snap, a release, and they came together with barely-muffled shouts.

"Goddamn," Carlton breathed out, letting the tension flow out of him even as he tried very hard not to collapse on top of Shawn.

Shawn laughed breathlessly, "So was it good for you?"

"Shut up."

"Make me." Carlton pulled himself up enough to see Shawn's face, the glint of mischief in his eyes and the lopsided, pleased smile. "I know we said we weren't gonna do that again and all that, but that was awesome. And we should most definitely do it again. In my opinion anyway."

"I didn't ask for your opinion."

Shawn sighed dramatically. "When have you ever?" He tsked and shook his head before tucking his softening dick away and slowly ambled up off the couch. "Are you dealing with the rest of this tonight?"

Carlton closed his eyes and sought, but what he found wasn't open to communication, wasn't very helpful. Thought it might be for the best if he waited until tomorrow to go back to the bar to talk to Casey or Jin. "Why?"

"Because you're big and snuggly, and I wouldn't mind sharing a bed with you if you're not gonna run off to get in more trouble."

Carlton hesitated as he tucked himself away and did up his fly. It was tempting. Extremely. And if the last hour or so had been any indication, he wasn't much up for fighting against temptation that night. He nodded, and Shawn grinned widely before insistently leading him from the couch to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Then he took him to bed where Carlton shucked off most of his tattered, filthy clothes and allowed Shawn's steady heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

\-----

Shawn checked him over for lingering injuries in the morning before proudly declaring that his generous offering the previous evening had surely saved Carlton from looking 'icky', 'gross', or 'like a zombie'. Carlton rolled his eyes but tolerated the onslaught. Before they parted, Shawn to wait for Gus while Carlton went on to the station, Shawn grabbed his hand, pulled him close and said, "I meant every word of what I said last night. So before you go back to see the people who kicked your ass, call for backup."

"You won't be much help against them."

Shawn smiled sadly, "I know. But I can do what I can, y'know?"

"Nothing will happen."

"Then nothing can happen when I'm either parked nearby or standing right next to you."

"You're never this brave." Carlton knew that wasn't true, could remember time and again when Shawn stepped up to the plate to face whatever was thrown at him. When it counted, when it mattered, Shawn could do damn near anything.

Shawn shrugged, "I'm mostly all talk. But I can be one hell of a distraction." Carlton chuckled, and Shawn made a quiet, indignant sound before slapping his arm. "Hey."

"Your words, not mine," he reminded him.

"Not true. You could've made me say it. With the magic hypnoshit." Carlton couldn't help the reactionary panic. It must have shown, and Shawn immediately felt badly – Carlton could feel the pang of panic and affection over what lingered from the night before. "I don't think you did. In fact, I know you didn't."

"How could you possibly?"

Shawn chewed his lower lip before he answered, momentarily honest. "It's kind of like how it feels when you've fed on me. Like, it's really scary, but it feels so good and eventually the good outweighs the bad."

Carlton scowled, "Wish I could say it felt the same for me."

"From your side?"

He shook his head. "One of the ringleaders at the bar went into my head and sealed that evening off and it just felt tight. Like there were too many people in my head at once. And later, when she was clawing around inside, it hurt."

"Maybe you're just more careful with me," Shawn said with an easy grin.

"Or you have no idea what you're talking about."

"Maybe." Shawn reached out to straighten his suit only to realize that his clothes were tattered and ripped. "Go get dressed and go to work. You'll probably be seeing me later. Just fyi."

Carlton sighed, "I thought I might. Try not to cause too much trouble."

Shawn glanced up at him with a devious smile. "No promises."

\-----

"Hello, I'm Shawn Spencer, and this is my partner No Mo' Money."

"Burton Guster," Gus introduced himself calmly, taking Alvarez's hand and shaking it firmly. " _You_ can call me Gus."

"Dude, everyone calls you Gus."

"Enough," Carlton said, crossing his arms and watching as the newcomers and consultants disengaged. "We have a few days to stop this before it happens again. We don't have time to play around." He ignored the look Shawn gave him, meeting Alvarez's eyes instead.

She nodded before turning her attention to the list of victims and days and places they'd been killed. "I know you believe in an established pattern, Det. Lassiter, but that doesn't account for the gap in your time table. Between the ninth and tenth victims."

Carlton had no reasonable response for that, looking quickly for an excuse, but Shawn saved him smoothly, "But the next death was two days later. So either we haven't found or identified the victim yet, or they failed."

"'Psychic'?" Alvarez raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Shawn was the first one to discern the pattern," Gus said coolly. "He had a very strong vision about it, and he's still sure about it." His eyebrows lowered as he looked to his partner. "You are, aren't you?"

"Of course I am, Gus. Because it's still right. The spirits are sure of it."

Carlton took a steadying breath, seeking strength, but thankfully, Alvarez and Georgio elected to ignore the two consultants for now, trying to triangulate the likely next strike. There was a theoretical pattern emerging, and Carlton's stomach sank when he realized that on the missing night, his apartment confirmed Angel's hunting grounds. "Spencer said he'd strike close to the coast during the buildup to the ninth body." He felt safe saying it as Shawn and Gus had left minutes before.

"No one finds it suspicious that he was right with the little evidence given to him at the time?" Carlton glared towards Georgio who shrugged under his scrutiny. "Being a consultant allows for sabotage, and Shawn strikes me as the kind of person who would know how to clean up a crime scene, too. He's smart."

They couldn't spare time on this ridiculous train of thought when Carlton had solid evidence to prove otherwise, "Spencer could have snapped, but Guster wouldn't have."

Juliet piped up, "Gus has been with Shawn almost every death night – he wouldn't say otherwise if it weren't true. Especially if he thought Shawn might be a suspect." The others looked at her skeptically. Juliet straightened her shoulders before saying with confidence, "Gus and Shawn have worked with us for years. They're good at what they do, but I've also seen both of them scream like small children with very little provocation. Spending our time thinking they could be the killers without any evidence to support it is a waste of time." She looked over at Carlton, a little nervous, "Right, Carlton?"

He answered without hesitation, "Spencer's not our guy."

Juliet smiled at him, clearly grateful. Carlton was thankful that he couldn't flush.


	8. Chapter 8

It was still daylight when he made the trek to the Sun's Rest. He waited nearby in his car long enough to text Shawn an approximate address – but hopefully far enough away that he could stay out of trouble – and collect himself. The idea of returning to face Jin and Casey and the other vampires who had harmed him the night before, tore into him in both body and mind made him feel a cold kind of righteous and a need to set things straight. Establish that he was not to be fucked with.

He had always gotten a certain satisfaction out of kicking a door in, feeling the mechanisms giving way to brute force, and it was no different now. Except this time he could put vampire super strength behind it, feel a moment of hesitation before the door swung open, harsh sunlight spilling into the dark, faces turning to look at him, their eyes glinting in the low light of the room.

There was a long moment of silence before finally a voice spoke up. "Little daddy. Didn't expect you back so soon." Casey leaned on the surface of the bar, watching him with a more pointed intensity than the patrons.

Carlton stepped into the room, his shadow long on the floor before him. He lifted his chin, hands settled on his hips as he met her eyes. "Ms. McCauley," he said calmly, walking into the enemy territory with his head held high. "May I have a word?"

She smiled sharply, leaning forward so her hair spilled over her shoulders. "Sure thing. Take a step into my office." She gestured to the door leading to the back room, and she waved to another vampire, indicating her departure. Carlton followed her back into a comfortable lounge complete with a couch where Jin slept, another, taller man sprawled out half on top of him. There were others curled up in chairs, on the floor – it reminded Carlton of particularly bad busts of druggie squatters.

Before Casey could say anything, he rounded on her, he demanded, "Can you account for all of their feedings?"

"Relax," Casey assured him with the ease that Shawn usually brought into his life. "We have arrangements with certain humans and groups. We don't kill." She folded her hands in front of her. "We're real sorry we couldn't tell you what we were doing, but we couldn't risk that she would see. We were protecting you."

Carlton wanted to insist that he didn't need protecting, but the words stuck in his throat. He had been helpless twice in the last day, and he never wanted that to be the case. It was going to be the equivalent of Academy training, of shadowing an officer, of being a junior detective. He was going to have to learn, and that meant finding a teacher. "She came after me."

"Of course she did. You're her baby." Casey smiled up at him, expression catlike in its smug satisfaction. "I take it you know her, now?"

Carlton nodded. "Yeah. I can find her." He crossed his arms. "Do you want me to lead her to you?" Casey hesitated. Carlton's eyes narrowed, lips curling into a sneer, "You know how to fight her, don't you?"

"We know how to kill vampires. But she could be stronger than us."

"While you're all saving your asses, we're counting down to another innocent kid with all their life in front of them getting drained and their throat slit." Carlton didn't bother to keep his voice low, his snarl waking the others in the room. "I have a city to protect, and you're scared she could be 'stronger than you'."

Casey's warm expression instantly turned cold, calculating, and she stepped close into his personal space. "Your enthusiasm is adorable, little daddy, but let me explain what happens when you fight a vampire that's much, much stronger than any individual going up against them. If you're lucky, they kill you. If you're not, you're enslaved. They rend your memories, make you forget everything you've ever been and shape you to serve their purposes. You become a puppet, and you don't even see what's wrong with it."

Carlton's shoulders tensed. Casey's voice was restrained, but he could hear the bitterness, the resentment, a lingering hurt that said enough about her own experiences that he didn't need to ask to confirm. "I didn't know."

"You couldn't have," she snipped with a subtle shudder in her shoulders.

Jin seemed to come out of nowhere, his hand touching Casey's shoulder in momentary support before his eyes honed in on Carlton. "We can take her on once we know what we're up against. But going in unprepared would end badly. For the humans as well as for us. Even for you."

Carlton's mouth went dry. "For me."

Jin nodded solemnly. "There's strength in numbers. Clans grow not because we want to change more people but for the fact that our family line is stronger the more of us there are. You'd be summoned in a fight, dragged away from your life to serve as cannon fodder. It's even more likely given that you're the only member of her line in the city."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"Easy," Casey said. "If there were more, there would have been more deaths. Anyone's she's groomed to be part of her clan is likely to have picked up her more brutal habits – it's part of the reason we don't tolerate the harming of humans."

Carlton's curiosity went haywire. "So you think that-"

"Given enough time, little daddy, she could mold you into anything. And a monster's not too far off to begin with."

Carlton remembered the relentless hunger, the way last night had gotten out of hand just from simply feeding, and he believed them. "How can you prepare for a vampire you can't meet?"

"Same way you take down difficult suspects." Jin stepped closer. "Research and preparation." He held his hand up, gesturing towards Carlton's head. "Let me have a look at her?"

Carlton prepared the memories as best he could and nodded, pushing them forward as Jin pressed into his mind. He took a cursory glance around at what Carlton gave him before he dove deeper. Carlton reeled backwards though it didn't break Jin's hold on his mind as he peeled back the layers of memories.

Carlton found himself in his bed, tossing and turning from the heat before rolling out of bed, padding across the room to open the window and feel the crisp night air on his skin. "Easy," Jin's voice said in his ear. "You're just remembering."

He tried to speak, to say that he couldn't help, that he didn't remember most of what happened, but the memory was surprisingly sharp. How he went to bed and a moment later, there was a dark shape at his window, creeping in through the open space. The way she crawled up his bed to him, her mouth landing on his neck.

"Let me in." The words chilled him, and Carlton wanted to leave, to escape from this hell where he was going to have to relive his death. Claustrophobia kicked in as he felt his body get weaker by the moment, his heart fluttering madly, the last surge of adrenaline.

Carlton roared, his fangs extended, claws clutching desperately at the wall as he stumbled away, shoved outward with his mind. There was a collective noise of pain from the other vampires in the room, groaning, hissing; his eyes snapped open. Jin was rubbing his temple, and Casey was wincing. The others didn't seem to be doing much better. Carlton honed in on Jin, the head of this motley body.

It was Casey who stepped up to him though, her fangs lengthening before his eyes. Carlton sneered at her, but she didn't flinch. They glared at each other before awareness beyond the territorial and self-preserving began to regain control. Casey visibly relaxed as he did, her fangs vanishing as quickly as they'd grown. "You pack one hell of a punch, little daddy."

"Quit calling me that," he said with a growl. He had enough stupid nicknames from Shawn – he didn't need someone else adding to the list. "Why would you call me that?"

"Because you're a baby to us, but you look way older than the rest of us." A small, teasing smile tugged at her lips. "And because I thought it'd annoy you."

Carlton scowled ferociously, his shoulders rising, tense. "That was impressive," Jin informed him suddenly. Carlton's head lifted to look at him, confused. "You must have fed yesterday, correct?" Carlton nodded. "It's given you a lot of power. You shook up everyone in the room."

"Did you get what you needed?"

"She's powerful," Jin said severely. "She successfully hypnotized you before even tasting you, while you weren't even in the same location. That takes a lot of energy and a lot of willpower that most people don't possess. To get through her mental abilities, we'll need someone with equal power. A neutralizer."

"A neutralizer," Carlton repeated, his hands landing on his hips as his eyes narrowed as Jin.

Jin nodded, "There are certain humans with such a loud psychic presence that they-" Jin was interrupted by Carlton laughing suddenly, covering his mouth with a hand to try and contain the sudden outburst.

" _Psychic_ ," he hissed like it was the funniest joke in the world and, in a way, it really, truly was.

"Is something the matter?"

Carlton smirked, and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'll tell you later. Keep going."

"They're often latent without the realization that they have the power. But the important thing is that they act like a signal scrambler. People can make calls out for reinforcements or try to use hypnotism, but it won't work as long as the neutralizer's taking up the psychic space in the room." Jin arched an eyebrow, asked, "Now, what was so funny?"

"An associate of mine has claimed to be a psychic for years now." Jin did not seem amused. Carlton quickly clarified, "He's not. I mean, there's no way there's a god cruel enough to do that to me. But his blood's the stuff I drank last night. You said it gave me power. There's proof he's not your neutralizer."

"Or some of his latent powers transferred to you and gave you greater strength," Jin pointed out. "Is there a chance we could meet this associate?" Carlton hesitated, clenching his jaw and thinking that involving Shawn in this sounded like the worst idea. "We don't have one of these readily on call. These kinds of people don't sit still very long; their presence is often too big to find harmony with the lives of others, so they move on to seek it somewhere else. You were the one saying our hours were precious not long ago. We should know if he at all fits the bill after a few short moments."

Carlton could imagine a hundred different ways this scenario could get very ugly very quickly. Especially if Alvarez and Georgio were wasting their time trailing Shawn which they might just be in spite of his and Juliet's reticence. It killed him not to be able to say anything, to be forced into silence and watching people waste their time.

More kids would die.

Carlton sighed deeply in resignation. "I'll take you to meet him. I'd rather he not know where to come to get into trouble."

"Probably a wise move," Jin said. "Casey will go with you." Carlton wondered at the ease with which he said it, not even once looking to her to confirm. Instead, he kept his gaze resolutely pinned on Carlton. "Placing friends in any sort of jeopardy is a difficult decision, but you've made the right one. The sooner we can move, the sooner we can get her off our streets."

"And the sooner we're going to discuss the arrangements you and your... clan have worked out with others." Carlton lifted his head, straightening up, sliding so easily into the mindset of work where it was comfortable and powerful and safe from having to acknowledge that Shawn might be something more than a coworker. "This is my city, and I'll protect her people through any means necessary."

"You don't have anything to worry about," Casey assured him, voice lilting soothingly. "And we'll prove it to you as many ways as we need to. Once we take care of this particular problem."

Carlton nodded stiffly and reached for his phone, dialing Shawn and pulling it up to his ear only to immediately hear him pick up. "Heeeey, Lassie. I'm wandering around down at the address you gave me, but, uh, I don't see anything."

"You will in a minute. I'm about to head your way."

Shawn made a small, hurt noise, "And where are you now?"

"It's better if you don't know," Carlton answered truthfully. "Stay where you are." He thought to ask after a moment, "Are you alone?"

"Yeah. Gus is at his other job."

Carlton didn't think he'd ever be relieved to hear that Guster wasn't around to keep Shawn on his leash, but there it was. He sighed in relief and said, "I'll be there soon." He hit the Call End button and looked at Casey, saying, "This is a very long shot. Just because he claims to be psychic doesn't mean-"

"I know," Casey said easily. "We've put up with our share of tricksters and charlatans. But he's no better or worse place to start than anyone else."

Carlton knew that was probably true, but that didn't mean he didn't have his reservations. If Shawn were such a large presence, why had he been so easily suggested to even when Carlton hadn't known what he was doing or how to control it? It made little to no sense to him, but it was with that confidence that he decided to allow Casey to tail him.

They'd left Sun's Rest and were walking towards the given location when Casey asked, "You called him an acquaintance, but you fed off of him?"

"It's complicated," he said gruffly.

"I see." She took a few quick steps, darting in front of him and forcing him to a halt. "Allow me to make it a little less so. If you've been feeding off of someone without consent, if you've been hypnotizing him into compliance, then we will be having a talk with you once we get everything settled. Am I clear?"

Carlton sneered, "I haven't been. At least, not intentionally."

Casey clicked her tongue disapprovingly before turning and walking, Carlton following quickly behind her. "We'll see."

"Would I still be able to hypnotize him? If he's a neutralizer?"

Casey shrugged, "I haven't had many dealings with them myself. I've heard that they can't negate personal attacks, or that trust can make them lower their walls to hypnotic suggestion. But you hear all sorts of nonsense over the years. There's no way to parse out the truth."

"Thanks for the help," he muttered.

Casey laughed humorlessly, "You're lucky we need you to find your mum, or I'd be back at the bar, and you could deal with the rest of this yourself." She smiled over at him, sharp and unforgiving. "I know you're awful sore about what we did the other day, but you have to know it was for the greater good. If you didn't, you wouldn't have come back the next day, little daddy. So stop acting like you don't trust us to get the job done. The enemy of my enemy, right?"

"For the time being."

Casey's smile widened. "Good enough."

"Lassie!" Carlton looked up to see Shawn jogging their way, slowing down only once he noticed that the person walking next to Carlton seemed to actually be with him. In an instant, the concern in his expression vanished, replaced by a sunny smile. "Well, hello," he said as he neared them. "I'm Shawn Spencer."

Carlton glared at him, but Shawn wasn't paying any attention to him, all of him focused momentarily on Casey. "Casey McCauley."

"Wow," he said, smile widening. "If I knew Lassie was running off for meetups with you, I would've been way more jealous."

"Well, aren't you sweet."

"I try," he said with false modesty. "I'm assuming since you're hanging out together that you're not one of the people who beat him up the other day."

"Spencer," he growled disapprovingly.

Shawn's eyes widened, his smile fading. He sidled slightly towards Carlton who smirked at the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Oh," he articulated finally.

Casey laughed softly, tittering behind a hand before it fell away, and she focused. When her eyes opened, she was nodding, "He's not a neutralizer."

Carlton silently thanked any and all deities that might exist for that small saving grace. "Neutralizer?" Shawn asked, looking to him for an answer.

She ignored him, considering, "He may even be a psychic amplifier. It would explain why you were able to take on a group of us and win all by yourself."

Shawn laughed, a rough bark of sudden noise that broke through Carlton's stunned silence. "Psychic? Wow. Like, really, wow." Carlton shot a pointed look at him, and Shawn's expression immediately changed, sobered and softened without giving too much away. "I told you so."

Carlton pinched the bridge of his nose, relieving a part of the tension building in his head. At least Shawn wasn't the neutralizer, and he could take whatever limited comfort that gave him. It meant Shawn wouldn't have to get involved, could stay out of danger – he could put a name to the emotions roiling in his stomach like 'affection' and 'protectiveness' but it wouldn't have changed the end result which was something he didn't quite want to examine nor did he have the time to.

For Shawn not to have to be involved would be ideal for all of them. "Then we need to go look somewhere else," he said to Casey.

Casey gave them both a thoughtful look. "Yes, we'll have a good look around. But, you know, if you feeding off of him was enough to let you take on a group of us, incorporating him into all of us-"

"No," Carlton said, dread opening up like a black pit inside of him.

"Hey, let's hear the nice lady out, all right?"

Carlton's gaze snapped to Shawn, cold and piercing. "Spencer."

Shawn raised his eyebrows, daring Carlton to interrupt or contradict him as he repeated, "Let's hear her out."

"All I intend to suggest is that someone who might be an amplifier can work in our favor. If we incorporate him into our system the same way we did for you," she raised an eyebrow at Carlton, "we might be able to draw on his power."

"If he's an amplifier."

"If," she agreed. "I'd offer to take him back to Jin, but somehow I don't think you'd approve."

"You'd be right," he said with a sharp smile.

"And what if I want to?" Shawn asked. Slid easily into Casey's space with a wide, charming smile. "Take me to your lair."

She laughed, eyes glinting as she looked between them before settling on Shawn again. "When it's time. May be before little daddy decides, but it's not today."

Shawn's disappointment vanished as quickly as it showed up, turning his grin to Carlton whose stomach opened up. "Oh, we are so talking about that later." He took Casey's hand, said to her, "Thank you. This is the best Christmas ever." Casey raised an eyebrow, and Shawn released her hand and said, "No, really, if I can help, let me know. Here's my business card." He slid a card into her palm as he pulled his hand back to himself. "Now, if you don't mind, I need to take care of my little daddy."

"I'm going to kill you," Carlton hissed, his own hand landing heavily on Shawn's shoulder, stilling him.

"Nah," Shawn said easily. "You need me." Gave a predatory grin, all teeth and sharp angles.

Carlton sneered but said nothing – it wasn't as if he could refute Shawn's claim. Instead, he looked to Casey. She was smiling, her amusement plain and unhidden. Sincerely, she said, "We'll get looking for someone we can use. Until then, sit tight, and don't try and track her down. We need you to stay alive-" Carlton raised an eyebrow with a scowl. "Okay, bad phrasing on my part. But we need you here on this earth at least until we can track her down and take care of it ourselves."

Carlton caught sight of Shawn's eyes widening, and he bit down on an explanation. Said simply, instead, "You got it."

"We'll be in touch. See you around." With a wink, she sauntered off, and Carlton's fingers tightened to keep Shawn from following her.

"'Take care of it ourselves'?"

"Do you really think we can put a vampire into the prison system?" Carlton asked tiredly.

"I didn't expect you to go all vigilante. You know that means it'll be unsolved? How long is that gonna be a problem even if you guys 'take care' of it? Like there's no way Alvarez and Georgio are gonna just peace out."

"I know."

"So what? Are you going to tell them?"

"I can't."

"Can't? Can't why?" Shawn stepped in front of him, bending to catch his eyes. "What's going on with you?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe things changed when I died," he snapped, releasing Shawn's shoulder so quickly as if he'd been burned. Shawn was looking at him curiously, mouth closed, listening, and fuck, it should have been harder to tell him no, to ignore him. He didn't owe Shawn anything except in every way that he did. "I can't talk about this here. There are reasons I can't tell anyone – not the Chief, not Alvarez, not O'Hara – about all of this. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone but she didn't get in contact with me until you already knew." He took a deep, steadying breath. "I need you to promise me that you won't tell anyone else. No matter what the circumstances are, no one can know about this."

"Lass-" he tried.

Carlton pressed on. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life. If you can't promise me that, then we're done."

A hurt look flashed across Shawn's face, leaving him open and vulnerable, exposed before he thought to rein it in. He broke the awkward silence with a soft, "I promise." Carlton wasn't convinced, but he could tell that pushing much harder would lead to an ugly escalation, something he didn't really want.

"Good," he said, feeling self conscious and not exactly sure why. "When the time comes, I'll figure something out. But I can't put more people at risk in order to tie this up in a neat bow. If the alternatives are more people dying or withholding information... I won't risk more civilian casualties."

"How can information lead to more people dying?" Shawn met his eyes, his gaze piercing.

Carlton didn't want to admit his weakness, didn't want to confess to being worried about his situation. However, if the worst came to be, he needed someone who would know that it wasn't his fault. That it wasn't him. "The first time I met her, she told me not to reveal myself or her. That if I did, or if I disobeyed, she would use me as a weapon. She would use the 'hypnoshit' as you called it. And she would make me kill people."

Shawn's eyes widened, expression softening in understanding. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't your problem."

"Of course it's my problem!" Shawn stepped close, his hand grabbing Carlton's wrist, and over their lingering connection, Carlton could feel his intense worry and concern. "I couldn't live with myself if I fucked up, and you paid for it." His heart hammered in genuine fear. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll protect you."

Carlton shook his head with a forced scowl, "Protect me?"

"Yeah," Shawn said with confidence. "If I gotta kiss you to break the spell and everything." He leaned close with a wide smile, leaning up to murmur warmly in Carlton's ear. "Or use handcuffs. Whichever."

Carlton reached for his reflexively only to see Shawn twirling the chain around his finger, the cuffs glinting in the bright light. "Point being," Shawn said, flipping them around again, "I'll do whatever it takes. You can count on me."

Carlton felt a sick little twist in his stomach, a nervous, fluttery feeling that was only made worse when he said, "I know." Shawn's grin spread instantly, lopsided, wide, perfect. Carlton looked away. "Hopefully, it won't come to that."

"Yeah. But a man doesn't keep eight firearms hidden in his house if he doesn't believe in being prepared for the worst."

His own lips twitched into a traitorous smile.

\-----

Carlton arrived at work early the next day to find Alvarez already in their command center, surrounded by the faces of the dead. There were dark circles under her eyes, but Carlton didn't dare mention them, only joined her in looking for connections between the victims as a way to discern future targets.

"None of it makes sense," Carlton said.

"Of course it does," Alvarez responded, scribbling out another theory on her yellow notepad when it didn't hold water. "Even a killer trying to attack at random will establish some kind of pattern. It's impossible not to create a link between them, because they already have something in common."

"Their killer."

Alvarez looked up at him with a grim smile. "Exactly that."

By the time Georgio and Juliet arrived, chatting amicably about something that wasn't the case, Alvarez and Carlton were both reading rapidly over the victims' files, theorizing and working in utter chaos in order to force a break. Juliet paused at the door, watching him with fascination. He caught her staring. "You don't work like this."

"The only way to predict the next victim is to find what links all of them together. The established area is too large to discount anything without evidence. If we can parse out their unifying factors, we can prevent the next death." By 'we', he definitely wasn't referring to the human team. But this was better than mulling in their shared frustration, making absolutely no headway whatsoever. It made him feel clearer. More alert. "We have five days."

Juliet's smile broke free, beaming for a moment, determined. "Then let's make the best of them."

Carlton nodded and went back to working, sliding seamlessly back into the dialogue with Alvarez. It took a little bit, but soon Georgio and Juliet were working, synchronized and on the verge of _something_. Which was a damn sight more than they'd been able to do for the past 40 days.

He was sure that time passed, that there were hours between when they started and when they separated to chase different leads in their respective pairs, but it all passed by in a blur that left him feeling refreshed and ready to take on the challenge. Angel wouldn't beat them. Between the department and his new allies, they were going to come out on top.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey, not that I'm, like, worried or rethinking handing out my contact info to a vampire or anything, but do you think maybe I could come over to your place tonight?"

Carlton sighed into the phone and considered telling him no, but at the end of the day, he preferred knowing what Shawn was getting up to. "If you can behave yourself."

"You got it, Lassie." There was a stressed undercurrent to his voice that seemed relieved to be given the offer even if he had no intent on following through with it. Carlton supposed it'd be a cold day in hell before Shawn actually did behave, but he couldn't really be blamed for trying to establish some kind of rules.

Given his own recent lack of control, Carlton wasn't entirely sure that he should be throwing stones.

Shawn arrived with takeout for himself and a warm, inviting pulse for Carlton. He reined the impulse in, banishing it to fester in the dark corners of his imagination and nowhere near his actions in the waking world. "Thanks, man. I appreciate it."

"I don't mind the company," Carlton said, feeling the need to clarify his passivity in allowing Shawn into his personal life. He settled in his chair, looking over to Shawn who sprawled on his couch like he owned it himself. "Have they tried to contact you?"

"Nah," Shawn said. "No weird visitors to the office either save for a few people worried they might be next."

Carlton's head lifted sharply, eyes honed in on Shawn. "What? And you didn't report them to us?"

"Easy, Lass," Shawn said, placating. "There was a group of three people who all came in at different times who claimed to be haunted by a dark spirit that was grooming them for death. They all met on some online community that obsesses with serial killers and murderers and makes them out to be something like demons or that a victim is a kind of soul mate or something just really fucked up. It fed all of their worst fears, and they thought a psychic would take them more seriously than the police."

Carlton arched an eyebrow. "And do you?"

Shawn shrugged, "I at least listened to them. Took down their details, asked a few questions, told them there was nothing to worry about."

"Any connection with our victims?" His mind raced with the possibilities, but Shawn was shaking his head sadly.

"No. One of them has a good friend who knew one of them, but there's not really any correlation between them except for that weird forum. Me and Gus went out to look at it, and it's got some pretty out there theories about our killer. They've even compiled a database of the victims and their interests and stuff to see if anything intersects. They find out another of the kids was super into _Harry Potter_ and the group's convinced they can pin the killer down."

Carlton gave a small huff, half out of amusement and half out of irritation. Of course civilians thought they could do his job. He almost wanted to ask what they thought of him – if they were following the case that closely, they had to have formed some kind of collective opinion about the detective whose face had been put to it.

Angel certainly had.

"They posted about us," Shawn said, prattling on, either unaware or ignoring Carlton's plight. "Our contact info, said to get in contact with Psych if anyone else felt they were being targeted by the killer's spirit. One of them claimed that they made our office 'hallowed ground' so the spirit can't follow them in, loses sight of them."

"Like 'base' in tag or hide and seek."

Shawn grinned. "Exactly like that. Anyway, won't be surprised if we don't have more drop in off the street. Gus wrote down basically everything they said – I can have him email the transcripts to you and Jules. I mean, there's probably nothing there, but you never really get to see me in my natural environment anyway. It might be a learning experience."

"I've seen you on the job more times than I care to think about."

"Aw," Shawn said, barely even attempting to feign hurt. "Maybe you need to see less of the work and more of the pleasure." Carlton glanced at him to see Shawn leering at him, a cocky smirk and a dark tint to his eyes that foretold trouble. Then, Shawn took a bite of his food and turned his attention to the TV. "Let's watch something fun."

He flipped it on. True crime. "Something _fun_ ," Shawn emphasized. Carlton flipped up a few channels until he found a western movie. With a roll of his eyes, Shawn stood and walked over, snatching up the remote and inputting a channel number without so much as a moment of hesitation. When he handed it back, the television played a cheesy sound-effect as dog ran face-first into a glass door only to shake it off and go running cheerfully after something in the yard moments later.

Carlton almost protested, but the promise of mindless entertainment, of truly taking a break from the case by immersing himself in audience laughter and corny one-liners was too tempting to pass up. He didn't miss how Shawn sat on the end of the couch nearest him, making minute gains to get closer and get whatever he was really after.

Carlton ignored it, unsure of whether he was motivated by selfish greed or by genuine exhaustion with the severity of the world as he decided to allow Shawn to move in closer.

However, contrary to his expectations, Shawn stayed his distance, gleefully laughing at the show and turning, every now and again, with a bright grin to see if Carlton were at least smiling too. Carlton was almost alarmed to discover that he was, if not at the animals themselves then at Shawn which was even more disturbing.

"Is this why you really came here?"

"You think I'd lie to you?"

"As easily as you breathe."

Shawn cast a glance over his shoulder before a smirk twisted on his lips, a devious glint in his eyes. "I'm hurt," he said, another lie flowing so easily off his tongue. "I am concerned about our new friends, but at least I told you about our development in the case."

"Development?" Carlton asked flatly. "You said it was nothing."

"And I mean, it probably really is, but at least I told you, right?"

Carlton didn't want to admit that, even if the information was useless, he was grateful for Shawn's willingness to share it. His easy cooperation wasn't something Carlton was used to, but if there were a time for it, it was now. "Thanks, Spencer," he said finally, without sarcasm or bitterness, a genuine expression of gratitude.

"Woah." Shawn scrambled up on the couch, draping himself over the arm to look at Carlton. "Careful, Lassie, that almost sounded real." Carlton's eyes narrowed in an intense glare. Shawn was undeterred. "Look," he said, "I know stuff between us is weird, and neither of us can take the time right now to sort it out. It's safe to assume I'd _like_ to have sex again on a frequent basis, but that's not the only thing going on. Believe it or not, this whole... supernatural thing is kind of hard to deal with, and I think it'd be better for both of us to stick together. We know each other, and with the other vampires and the feds and all of that going on, we need to have someone we can trust and rely on." He smiled, soft and tentative, _careful_ in a way Carlton wasn't used to. "All right? Partner?"

Carlton felt the tension unwind in his shoulders even at the realization that Shawn was right. He trusted him. He'd called Shawn looking for help, he'd designated Shawn as his backup, and Shawn had followed through. Exactly as Carlton had needed and expected him to.

"Right," he said, eyes falling away, embarrassed at the realization.

Shawn's smile widened into a grin. "Awesome." He sidled closer, leaning farther over the of the sofa until most of his weight was resting on the arm. "Now, about the fun part of that arrangement."

Carlton glared daggers. "Not tonight."

And, in an instant, Shawn was back to being indecently sprawled on the couch, eyes on the television. Behaving himself as much as he could. For the first time, he brought peace in his wake, and it was precisely what Carlton needed. When he slept that night, he slept like the dead, woken only for a moment as the warm-blooded Shawn slid into bed with him, and then he was out like a light, Shawn's feet warming the cold from Carlton's own.

\-----

Three days remained before they'd be looking at a twelfth body and a thirteenth victim. The tension at the station was thick enough to cut with a knife, but the low mood couldn't interfere with their ongoing investigation. Shawn and Gus came by early to report on the visits they'd received at their office by those who thought they might be killed. They brought with them coffee, and offering of warmth and caffeine that Carlton truly only enjoyed out of a need for the comforts of routine. Shawn had given him almost the sweetest coffee he'd ever had. He sipped it gratefully as Georgio eyed the two consultants.

"How did you know our orders?" He smiled grimly, "More psychic hocus-pocus?"

"No," Shawn said, feigning hurt though a quick smile ruined the effect. "Well, sort of. The spirits led me to the right Starbucks, but the cute barista with the bleached hair was the one who knew your orders." He looked towards Alvarez, sly as he said, "He knew instantly who I was asking about. Might be taking particular interest?"

"I wouldn't know," Alvarez said, not looking up from the laptop in front off her. "Why don't you ask Elias?"

Georgio's tan face took on a red tint, his mouth twitching into a fake smile, the scar on his lip twisting. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you? Since you've insisted on going to that particular Starbucks every morning since we met him?" She peeked up at him, teasing, "And the way he says your first name."

Georgio's blush deepened. "I haven't noticed."

"That look on his face says otherwise," Gus pointed out quietly to Juliet who turned her head to smile at him.

Her voice tried to discourage him, "Don't tease him."

"Oh come on, Jules," Shawn said, sauntering to Carlton and throwing his arm over his shoulder, leaning comfortably on him. "If it weren't for teasing, the rapport we have today wouldn't have been so lovingly nourished. We might not even be friends."

"We're not friends, Spencer," he said, turning his head to hiss in his ear.

Shawn laughed, his arm pressing down as he put more weight onto Carlton, so easily claiming his personal space, the rigidness of his spine as his own to use as he pleased. Proprietary.

"He might have a point, Carlton," Juliet said.

Stiffly, he pointed out, "Inviting a bunch of criminals to my house isn't what I'd classify as 'teasing'."

Alvarez and Georgio watched them with interest, and Carlton suddenly realized that Shawn was practically hanging on him, reluctant to move if Carlton wasn't going to force the issue. How it must look – he quickly dipped his shoulder and stepped out of the way, leaving Shawn teetering before he finally regained his balance.

Alvarez interrupted further banter, asking, "So, do you think we should look for a history with the occult in the other victims?"

"If you're just looking for a connection between them, it might not be a bad place to start," Gus said easily. "Shawn hasn't gotten any visions pertaining to it, but it's against our nature to withhold information from the proper authorities." Both Carlton and Juliet gave him a look, and, defensively, he added, "At least when I get a say in the matter." They shrugged practically in unison. Juliet turned to glare at Shawn; Carlton didn't bother.

Shawn slid easily into his sales pitch, voice dropping as if he were imparting some theory that might be dangerous if someone knew he were daring to speak of it. The tone itself put Carlton on edge, but Shawn didn't even stray into unwanted territory. "As is an unfortunate reality of both our jobs, Nita, people have been known to lie to selfishly further their own agendas. It's only a hunch, but if someone were pretending to be a psychic-"

"Unlike you," Georgio added with a snicker. Alvarez didn't crack a smile.

"Yes, exactly," Shawn said, leaning over the table, his hands spread on the open files. "But if they were pretending to have some connection to supernatural forces, they could be the connection you're looking for. They might even be the killer. Selling gullible kids Ouija boards and palm readings by the daylight, hunting them down at night. Following a compulsive order to their routine."

"Only a hunch, Mr. Spencer?"

"Well, yeah, I guess." He leaned back on his feet. "But a hunch is better than nothing. It can't hurt to see if they participated in teenage séances or tried to read tea leaves, is there?"

Carlton hated to admit it, but it might be as solid a theory as the police would get. Angel seemed the type to lure her victims in, to enjoy the hunt as much as she did the kill. It didn't match the way she'd dealt with him. But then, he'd been in the way. Reflexively, he reached up and rubbed his throat. It wasn't until he felt Shawn's hand on his arm that he realized what he'd been doing.

"You trust me, don't you, Lassie?"

"Trust isn't the word."

"But you're still not gonna let Mario over there grill me into next week, right?"

"Hey," Georgio protested. "I may be Italian, but-"

"Would you rather be Luigi?" Shawn asked, turning to look at him. "Gus always plays Luigi – don't be like Gus."

Gus rolled his eyes, "Because someone is obsessed with kissing the princess."

"You know that's right."

Georgio interrupted, forcibly realigning the conversation back onto the pertinent track. "The theory you've presented, Mr. Spencer, only reaffirms my reasonable concerns. Chances are, knowing that we have nothing on them, the killer will start getting cocky. They'll believe they won't get caught. Spelling out how someone chooses their victims not only aligns with the classic tropes of villainous monologues, but it's not far from the real-world truth. There's no way to gloat unless they're accused. No way to take credit for their brilliance. The knife wound is a taunt meant for the police, but it's all pointless if the police don't eventually find them."

"Uh, as the guy who's pretty familiar with a real-life serial killer, I think maybe I know-"

"How did Yang react when she'd realized she'd been beaten?" Georgio demanded. "I bet she was pleased. Happy that you'd come along."

Shawn's lips pressed into a thin line, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by an easy smile. "You've done your homework."

"Yes, I have."

"But that doesn't change the fact that if anyone's going to grill me, I feel like it should be Lassie. For old times' sake. It's been, god," he smirked up at him, "almost a year since you've had me on the other side of the table for an interrogation. I'm starting to miss it."

"I won't be interrogating you." He bristled, glaring between Shawn and Gus, "Unless you continue to hang around here and hinder our investigation."

"Hinder?" Shawn scoffed, hurt. "We came to help."

"Then either help or leave."

"A fair compromise," Gus said, slipping behind Shawn and grabbing his friend's wrist, dragging him away from Carlton. "But we've imparted our information, and in case we get more walk-in visitors, I really think we should be there." Grimly, he added, "Since we've only got three days."

"Good idea," Alvarez agreed, typing away at the laptop. "Would one of you close that door so we can get some work done?"

Carlton settled into the chair across from her, sipping his sugar-rush coffee and skimming the files intently to look for classes or interests that might correspond with Shawn's theory. As he said, it couldn't hurt to look. And after work, he'd head over to the Sun's Rest to talk to Casey and Jin about finding a psychic neutralizer.


	10. Chapter 10

He worked late, calling loved ones and checking online presences for anything consistent throughout. Alvarez and Georgio left together, Juliet not far behind them, and Carlton missed their presence immediately. The Chief stopped by before she headed home, pausing at the door and looking over the chaos before her eyes landed on him. "Head home soon, detective." Carlton looked up sharply, old habits resurfacing as he began to protest, but she lifted her head, asserting her authority. "That's an order, Carlton."

Carlton didn't hesitate, relenting easily under her command. "Yes, Chief." He returned to scouring the social media updates from their victims, searching relentlessly for any supernatural connection for his own peace of mind, but barring posts made near or on Halloween, it wasn't revealing much. He began to feel a slight tug, like the fish was on the end of his line, waiting to be snapped up and reeled in. Closing his eyes, he reached for that line, not feeling the cold sensation of lingering death that marked Angel but a warmer bubbly feeling that he instantly associated with Casey.

The message was clear, and Carlton was eager to answer. He shrugged on his suit jacket and headed for the door, passing the cops coming in for the night shift without batting an eye. They'd steer clear of the room they'd been using, but they'd also oversee it and make sure no one tampered with what was there. It was going to have to be good enough tonight.

He drove to the Sun's Rest as quickly as possible, thinking of calling Shawn in for backup. If it was a trap, he'd be nearly defenseless. But then, if it was a trap, he wasn't entirely sure how much help Shawn would be. By the time he made it there, he'd resolved to shoot him a text to tell him he was meeting up with Casey. Keeping him in the loop was more advisable than ignoring their connection. Once that was done, he locked the car and took quick, long strides to the bar, weaving through the crowd without giving them more than the barest of notices.

Of everything that had changed for him so far, his paranoid monitoring of his surroundings had been altered the most. His heightened senses replaced constant vigilance, easy awareness overriding his own taught abilities when it came to observation. He could recognize the danger in it as equally as he'd embraced the change.

There were too many things he'd have to learn, to live with once they'd gotten rid of Angel once and for all.

A loud clamor of conversation hit him as he opened the door to the Sun's Rest, though, as he was used to, there weren't many heartbeats among the gathered. It almost resembled the way things had been before, and Carlton distantly wondered if that was why they favored the company of other undead.

Casey wasn't behind the bar, but she spotted him almost instantly, making a beeline for him through the tables. "Busy, aren't you?" Carlton asked, almost worried that they'd be going to face Angel tonight. If this was their army, they seemed to have all shown up.

"Word gets around, little daddy. Everyone found out we were welcoming new people into the fold, and they all had to come poke their noses in." She patted his arm, "Loosen up. Where's your boyfriend?"

"He is not," Carlton began, but she raised an eyebrow pointedly. Embarrassed, he changed tactics, "He's hopefully keeping himself out of trouble. That's all I can really ever hope for."

Casey laughed. "Well, hopefully we can help you along with that. A neutralizer found and contacted Jin. They're in the back room, so hopefully we can formulate a plan of attack and carry all of this out the next time she's out hunting."

"In two more days."

She nodded, smug as she informed him, "That's when she'll be at her weakest and most desperate. Any small advantage we can get will help."

To satisfy his own curiosity, he asked, "So that was you trying to contact me earlier?"

"You felt it!" Casey said brightly. "We were wondering if you would." She turned with a small bounce to her step, indicating silently that Carlton should follow. He cast a cursory glance over the crowd, some of whom were attempting subtle glances at him as well though most were blatantly staring. Satisfied that Angel wasn't among them and none appeared particularly more mischievous than the others, he followed at Casey's heels to the back room.

He could hear the two heartbeats before she opened the door, beating in their separate rhythms. He immediately assumed the worst – that Shawn had found his way into trouble. He gritted his teeth together and stepped through the door with stiff shoulders, a glare already piercing out before his eyes fell on the humans and all the air rushed out of his lungs.

Shawn wasn't the one he needed to have worried about.

Instinct told him to run, to save himself and whatever he could salvage of his reputation, but his feet were still, unmoving, his eyes staring at the federal agents in their civilian clothes. Georgio noticed him first, his own eyes widening in momentary panic, but Alvarez followed his gaze, looking over Carlton with a cold calculation that was the least of his current concerns.

"You know Nita and Elias?" Casey asked from his side.

"We know him," Alvarez said before he could deny and run away, escape. "Or, well, we've met. Though this certainly raises some questions as to how well we 'know' one another."

Carlton sneered, fingers curling into fists at his side, the urge to go for his gun almost overwhelming until he bit it down, focused on what he could do, could control. "I'm not the killer."

"That wasn't the implication," she said coolly. "If what they've told me is true, I need to know how much you were hampering the investigation."

"I wasn't," Carlton snarled, knowing it wasn't the truth. Waiting for Alvarez to call him on it.

It was Georgio who spoke, voice accusing, the same he'd heard when he'd suspected Shawn. "You knew the identity of the culprit and kept that information from us. For what it's worth, you did a good job hiding your vampirism, but I'm afraid all the good intentions in the world don't absolve you from harboring a murderer."

Carlton's fangs wanted to lengthen, his system kicking into self defense mode which usually involved a lot of aggression, but he reined it tightly in. "I did everything I could. But it's like being undercover-"

Georgio turned to Alvarez, saying sweetly, "It's like being undercover. But there's a much more important question in that, isn't there?"

"I would say so," she said primly, rising to her feet and lifting her head, imperious, calm, cool as she asked, "Spying for whom? Us or the killer?"

Carlton had pulled similar tactics to draw out confessions before, but the difference here was that he was innocent. And suddenly terrified that they wouldn't know it. The only thing he could give them was the one thing he'd been keeping close, hoping never to reveal. "I'm the missing link."

"You're a little hairy, but I'm not sure I'd call you-" Georgio began with a sly grin.

"I'm the tenth victim." It was the first time he'd admitted it out loud, said it with such finality. There was no use in hiding from it – he was an officer who'd been killed in the line of duty, but his death hadn't brought him a release from the hellhole his life had become. It had only intensified the horror. "I'm the one who wasn't found, the gap in our records." It tasted bitter in his mouth, the most unappetizing medicine made worse by the truth of his own hellish existence. "I'm putting people I care about at risk by telling you that, which is why I didn't. I'm only hoping that since one of you is a so-called neutralizer that she won't find out."

There was a long silence. Carlton rotated his shoulders, the tension unwinding as his fingers slowly uncurled. "That's why you wouldn't let us rule it out," Alvarez said finally. Carlton nodded sharply. Gently, she said, "Newly-turned vampires with no direction usually turn into monsters. It's very quick and very messy. The fact that you're not only human but functioning is nothing short of amazing."

Carlton reached the only conclusion there was to draw. "You thought I'd been like this for a long time."

Alvarez nodded. Casey cleared her throat, and Carlton was drawn to where she and Jin stood at the side of this conversation. "If we're all agreed to be allies?" Jin said, looking between the two groups until it seemed that they'd reached the same agreement. "We only have two days to prepare before it's the best time for us to strike. Nita is a neutralizer and can hopefully dampen her psychic abilities."

"You won't get scared and run?" Casey asked, teasing.

Alvarez raised an eyebrow. "I sought out the largest gathering of vampires in the city to search for information for our investigation. It's safe to say neither El or I will be running from the fight we came looking for."

"Even with those abilities dampened, we don't know how old she is or how otherwise powerful she might be. Casey and I have been doing what research we can, but she's always out of reach. The only one who might've had an gauge on that aspect is Carlton," Jin nodded to him, eyes cutting to him for only a moment before looking back to the feds. "But the times he's met her, he's been compromised."

"There was more than the initial meeting?" Georgio asked skeptically.

"I've met her three times," Carlton said. "First when she killed me, then when she felt the need to introduce herself after the first time I fed. She hypnotized me, had me drive to meet her, then left me on the beach while she escaped."

"You fed," Alvarez said, obviously demanding clarification.

"On a friend who consented. He's still alive and well."

Georgio's lips twitched into a knowing smile. "Spencer?" He looked at Alvarez who suddenly laughed, turning her eyes keenly to Carlton, smile widening, sharp, as he pressed his lips tightly together. "I see."

"You really don't."

"What was the last time?" Alvarez asked, cutting in.

"A few days ago," Carlton answered. "They," he indicated Jin and Casey, "wanted me to know how to track her which meant paying attention when we interacted. We lured her out of hiding."

"So you've done it once already?" Georgio asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why not kill her then?"

Carlton's throat tightened, but Casey saved him, swooping in and putting a hand on his arm. "We didn't know how else to draw her out than to make her concerned for little daddy's safety. He wasn't in any condition to fight, and she was all riled up and ready to kill."

Alvarez looked at him, eyes skimming over him as if looking for lingering marks from that night. Carlton did his best to ignore it. "So we're looking at the element of surprise on a night when she wants to be feeding and hopefully with some of her powers either gone or severely hampered," Alvarez said, meeting his eyes as if he had any control over the situation, as if he had the power here when he was just a pawn moving between much more powerful people wherever they willed him to go. He reluctantly included Shawn among their number.

"Anything to give us an advantage," Jin said.

Casey patted his arm again, comfortingly, and Carlton allowed himself to be soothed. Worrying about his own well-being wasn't something he could afford until Angel was either dead or incarcerated. He'd already died once. "I'll lead you to her, but I'm not going to stand aside and let all of you clean up after," Carlton said, shrugging Casey's hand off of him, stepping forward to stand up for himself. "If there's a trick or a plan to bringing her down, I want to know it."

Georgio crossed his arms, head tilting as he asked, "Don't trust us, Lassiter?"

"It's not a matter of trust," Carlton growled. "But no, I don't. I wasn't the only one withholding vital information, and I don't know what else you're keeping from me. She made this personal, and it'll be a cold day in hell before she gets away with it." He lifted his head, glancing at the others in slow turns and daring them to try and dissuade him.

Instead, Alvarez nodded sharply, eyes intent on him, honest and fierce. And Jin swept in for the shaky truce, saying, "Perhaps, then, it would be best for us to begin formulating our plan of attack."

Carlton nodded himself and took a seat along with the others.

\-----

Hours later, their talk was finally over, but Carlton's mind continued to race restlessly, hands twitching with the need for activity, the need to make himself useful. To fight. He knew the touch was coming before it landed, the owner's warmth and the heartbeat giving it away. Georgio clapped him on the shoulder. "You want to learn how to kill a vampire?"

He turned, facing him and his partner. "How are you two tangled up in all of this, anyway?"

Georgio smiled, a hint of smug condescension in his voice, "What, did you think the federal government isn't prepared for this kind of thing? Angel – right, that's what you called her – isn't the first vampire to go on a murder spree or to require special attention from people in the know, and that's what we are. We usually come in, clean house, and get out with as little damage or information to people as possible. That's the way it's always been done."

"Always," Carlton repeated flatly.

"El's family has hunted demons since the family's origins in Italy," Alvarez said coolly. "He's usually very proud of it, but then, he doesn't think it'll impress you, so he didn't bring it up." Georgio gave an offended scoff. "And I was recruited because of my useful ability when I was in college. As for the agency, it's been around for a while, but the eradication of monsters stretches back into the cradle of civilization." She shrugged, "As long as they've been around, so have people to stop them."

"So they-" he paused, swallowed, and forced the correction out, "we can be killed."

"Absolutely," Georgio said brightly. "C'mon. I kinda wanna see how you do in a fight anyway."

They gave him the address of a gym where they'd be allowed to use one of the empty rooms reserved for classes, and Carlton drove there himself, feeling no less settled knowing he was going to have an outlet for his energy soon. He checked his phone when he arrived, but there were no messages or voice mails or missed calls.

Anticipation. That had to be what had him wound so tightly, the promise of ending all of this once and for all.

The room they were in had mirrors along one wall. He glanced at his reflection, at the black eyes and pointed fangs, the claws extending from his hands all still prevalent and horrifying before turning his back to it. Carlton didn't have the energy for the hatred he had for his new monstrous self. Instead, he focused on the door, listening as heartbeats approached and Alvarez and Georgio slipped through the door before closing and locking it behind them.

"The legends," Alvarez began, "are not all true. I'm sure you've figured that out to some extent since you can walk in sunlight and don't have to be invited into peoples' homes. But there are myths concerning death, too. Shoving a wooden stake into the body only prevents healing until it's removed, but since the vampire isn't alive, puncturing the heart only hurts like a bitch. The only surefire way to end your life instantly is to cut off your head or destroy it. You can heal from almost anything else given time and blood from a kill. But severely damaging the brain or cutting it off from the rest of your system, and you'll begin to wither and die."

"Sounds fun," he said dryly.

"It's a long, agonizing death. Supposedly, you can also starve yourself, but you'll go mad and kill someone while out of your mind long before your body will give up."

"So," he asked with a swallow around the tightness in his throat. "I'm immortal?"

"Pretty much."

Carlton wasn't soothed by the realization. Forever, an eternity of living like this, of watching the people he cared about age and decay. "Hey, Lassiter," Alvarez said, taking a step close. "Calm down."

"I am calm," he lied.

Alvarez rolled her eyes. "I may nullify psychic signals on a large scale, but I sync up with individuals I'm around. You're practically vibrating with worry right now, and you need to shut it down. You're a good cop, Lassiter. Don't let this distract you."

"You expect me to believe that load of crap?"

"Whether you believe it or not, it's true. All of it."

"I know I'm good at what I do," he snarled.

"Then take some damn pride in it and stop acting like a victim." She smirked. And Carlton had only the quick kick of her heartbeat to tell him to protect himself. He brought his fist up, forearm deflecting a blow from her left hand before he stepped back out of reach, both fists coming up as they circled one another.

"Not bad," Georgio said. "Not exactly supernaturally good, but not bad."

"Let's see you do better," Carlton snipped. He ducked Georgio's blow when it fell.

Fighting two people at once like this was more than anything Carlton had experienced in his life. It was the thrill he got when chasing the Sandoval what felt like years ago; the same elation when he'd stalked Shawn across his living room, every inch the predator that he'd tried to deny. It was intoxicating and surprisingly easy.

"Syncing with someone's psychic wavelength makes you predictable," Alvarez said, grinning as Carlton lunged towards her and she bobbed out of the way. "But it's a two-way street." Her hands uncurled, shoulders relaxing as she held them up in surrender. "As Angel's blood, the sync comes naturally. You can affect one another easily, like when she hypnotized you, but it leaves as great a weakness in the aggressor, too, especially when the target knows how to turn it around on them."

Carlton didn't let down his guard, but he also didn't attack, standing at ease though tension still strung his muscles taut and ready.

"You can match her. Blow for blow, attack for attack, but you have to allow the bridge to form. If you don't, you're going to be as good as your knowledge, and those of us going know a great deal more about the way all of this works. If you want to be useful in the fight, you're going to have to take that advantage."

"Won't you be nullifying our contact anyway?"

"Blood runs deeper than my abilities. The rest of them will be safe, but you're the wildcard. You're also exactly who she's not going to expect if she has you as tightly leashed as you claim."

"I don't know how to do that," Carlton said.

"You do," she assured him. "El won't interfere to start out with, so just focus on me. We've synced up before, and it's the same now. Only instead of working towards a common goal, we're going to focus," a fist swung up, a sudden strike that Carlton dodged on pure instinct alone, "on fighting."

Carlton felt his fangs begin to lengthen, but he brought the impulse to heel. He struck out in retaliation, but Alvarez wasn't bothered, taking his vampire strength with a tight set of her jaw and determination on her brow. "Sync," she reminded him. "Don't guess, don't watch and calculate. I'll have El blindfold you if that's what it takes."

"That won't be necessary."

"I'll be the judge of that." She moved in for an attack, and he reacted, moving out of the way. Alvarez scowled and kept moving with him, pulling him into a series of lunges and dodges, his own attacks becoming more sparse until they'd stopped completely, and he was only defending, moving with her, instincts and reflexes keeping him one step ahead. Until, in one moment, he went from being one step ahead to being an actual step ahead. She was waiting to move to his left, about to make a lunge, her face and body impassive, but he could read it nonetheless. It was a little like dancing, if he'd ever been any good at it. Knowing the steps and moving to a rhythm, in perfect time with his partner.

With that knowledge came power, and when she made her move, Carlton twisted away, body moving to keep him facing her, another quick dodge as she turned herself, using her elbow to try and knock him down. It was amazing how easy it felt, every moment a frame-by-frame movement, giving him ample time to use her momentum against her and bring her down, pinning her to the ground with one arm trapped in a careful hold behind her.

His fangs were long, her heart hammering in his ears, and she'd never drawn his attention quite like this, where he wanted to drink her blood, taste her fire. But he could hear Georgio's heart too, steady as the sound of his gun sliding out of his holster. Carlton released Alvarez and got to his feet, holding out a hand to help her up.

"I think we're done for the night," she said after she got a good look at him. He felt guilty, but she smirked. "It'll be even easier when it's her."

"Nothing about this is easy," he said gruffly.

"Of course not. But it will be. You'll have time to figure it all out."

Carlton thought about eternity, but it was impossible to comprehend. He'd settle for getting through the next few days. "What's the plan for tomorrow?" Georgio asked.

"We'll continue. Business as usual," Alvarez said calmly. "There's no reason to raise any eyebrows unless we have to. I suggest we meet up here after work and continue getting Lassiter used to this, possibly taking on both of us at once. The sooner you learn, the more comfortable I'll feel flying back to Washington at the end of this." Her lips twisted into a scowl, "I'll need to speak with Spencer before then."

Carlton's mouth was as dry as a desert, "Spencer?"

"I need to make sure your arrangement is consensual. I don't doubt it, but it's for my own peace of mind. Preventative measures. You understand?"

He did, in an odd way. And he found himself to be appreciative. Carlton nodded, looking between the two of them. It ought to have been more jarring, the change in who he thought they were and who they'd proven to be. But he was oddly at peace.

\-----

He still hadn't heard from Shawn. He frowned and stared at their text exchange, but he wrote it off quickly. Shawn and Gus were probably off doing their own investigation. Shawn was with Gus. Carlton was overreacting, becoming paranoid and overprotective of someone he didn't have the emotional right to worry about so fervently. Shawn provided him with a service in exchange for sex. They were barely friends.

Carlton tried not to miss him. He laid down and fell into a restless sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

Everything hurt in dull, constant aches that throbbed through him in waves, mind-numbing torment. A cool hand caressed his face, pulling his face up by his chin, fingers firm and unyielding. Angel bared her fangs to him, her other teeth sharpening as she fell on him, made of nightmare and despair, and when she bit him, it burned, flashes of white light bursting behind his eyes.

Carlton sat bolt upright in bed, the gun from his bedside table firm in his hands as he pointed it at the far wall. His breathing was hard, so loud in his own ears. It took minutes before he began to calm.

He wasn't able to fall back asleep.

\-----

Tension ran high, palpable; from the moment he stepped in the station, he could feel it thrumming in the air. It pushed his exhaustion down, calling up on his supernatural instincts. The hunter in him thrived on it. He was almost grateful as he took quick steps through the station.

Georgio was informing the officers of the new kill-night procedures. Carlton sought out Juliet to stand beside her, leaning over to ask, "Have you heard from Spencer?"

Her nose crinkled as she turned her head to look up at him, confused. "No? Have you?"

"No," he whispered too quickly. "I don't like when he's quiet. It's never ended well."

"It'll be fine, Carlton."

He hoped desperately that Juliet would be right more than she knew was possible. Angel. He tried not to think about her much or their oncoming mission, fearing that she could somehow overhear him, that his treacherous supernatural biology would give all of his secrets up to the one person he couldn't afford to have them.

She'd seemed to know so much at their first meeting.

He clenched his teeth and looked around the gathered. The hopeless and frightened. He hoped to god none of them would have to know the truth behind these killings. He hoped none of them would ever need to know what he'd become. Georgio finished, and the crowd dispersed. Carlton rolled his shoulders, hoping it would rid him of the strange feeling that clenched tight in his stomach, colder and heavier than any dread he'd felt before.

\-----

They found a club that linked several of the victims, frequented by college-age kids who liked their music too loud and their drinks too strong for people just starting out in life. They'd interviewed the bartenders, and it had taken every ounce of Carlton's willpower not to give out Angel's description, to warn them. Even knowing they wouldn't be able to hold onto it, that they wouldn't even notice her even if she came straight up to them, Carlton wanted them to know. Wanted them to be safe the way he wanted every civilian in his city to be safe.

They were heading out to the Crown Vic and the feds' rental when Juliet's phone rang. Carlton heard someone panicking over the line, tinny and high-pitched, but it wasn't until he felt Juliet's heartbeat speed up that he knew. There were a number of other things it could be, of course. But that dread balled up inside him spread, making time seem to slow, every heartbeat around him surrounded and cushioned by long silence.

"You're sure?" she was asking. "Gus, are you sure?"

Carlton's hearing honed in, and every word only made the world turn slower. "His motorcycle's still at the office. He hasn't taken my car or Henry's truck. And he isn't picking up his cellphone. It's going straight to voicemail, so it must be turned off, but Shawn never turns his phone off. I mean, what if this killer's a fan of Yang or they've been exchanging psycho snail mail? What if he went after Shawn?"

Carlton reeled, leaning over the car. The hot hood burned his palms, but he was barely aware of it, pushing past the pain, his own breathing, Gus and Juliet's voices, the heartbeats, the noises of the city, falling into the headspace he'd been finding easier and easier over the last few days and seeking.

He couldn't find Shawn. He tried harder. Shawn was sunlight, laughter; he was the moment on the lips, sinful indulgence so decadent and perfect that you didn't care about the lifetime on the hips. He had to be there. Somewhere out there, his heartbeat thrumming, alive. A hand landed on his back, but Carlton didn't respond, fangs growing in his mouth, digging brutally into his skin.

"Carlton," Juliet's hand landed on his arm, calling him back.

"Det. O'Hara, might I suggest you not stand-"

"Close to my partner?"

Even if Shawn were dead, if she'd turned him into a lackey like him, Carlton should still be able to feel him like he could feel Casey and Jin.

"Lassiter," Alvarez's voice low, barely a mumble but his hearing caught it. "Not like this."

His eyes snapped open, flinching at the light as he drew in a hiss through his teeth. Rage seethed through him, unbearable fury that anyone would hurt Shawn because of him, because of his connection to him. He'd kill her. He'd do worse; he'd make her regret the centuries she'd lived, all the times she could have, should have died – each an opportunity to escape him.

He released the breath he'd been holding, the air hot in his throat. "Finding Shawn Spencer is our highest priority. If he's gotten himself in trouble, we only have until tomorrow before he's killed."

"We can't know that the killer has him."

He turned to look at Juliet, feeling the deep scowl on his face. "I do."

She looked up at him, searching his expression carefully before she nodded. "All right. Promise me you'll explain all of this."

"When we have time."

"Lassiter," Georgio said, crossing his arms. "We can't let your personal relationship with Spencer interfere with an official investigation." There was a meaningful look in his eyes, and that was the only thing that kept him from losing his cool.

"Interfere with my duty?" He looked up at the sun, wincing at the light and going for his sunglasses. "Never," he said, voice cold as he slid the arms over his ears and blocked out the sun.

\-----

The motions were forced. They set up a security detail for the club, arranged patrols to enforce the curfew and keep an eye out for suspicious figures. Carlton's heart wasn't in it, which made it fortunate that Alvarez and Georgio were in a higher position of authority, had taken over his case and therefore all the responsibilities for it. Carlton had never been so grateful to be working with federal agents.

He took a quiet moment to sink back into that space, searching. Shawn had to be out there; he refused to believe in any alternative. It was with great reluctance that he slowed his breathing to a halt, and he turned his eyes to the darkness, to the cold of death, to the monster inside him and the one who made it. Fangs and fury, ash and blood.

Carlton pushed through the dark, through the increasing density of haze until he saw a flash of red and rocketed back into his body, the taste of blood in his mouth. Gave a thin smile with the taste of Shawn on his tongue. She had him. She'd fed off of him which made his face fall into a scowl. He was as certain of it as he'd been about Shawn's lying ever since he'd first started talking. She'd sunk her fangs into _his_ \- He took a shuddering breath and stood, leaning heavily on his desk. He'd get him back. By whatever means necessary. He took a few wobbly steps before he found his strength, rejoining the rest of them. Carlton clung to his vindication, his rage as if it'd be enough to save them all.

\-----

Gus arrived at the station an hour before the patrols were due to start. There wasn't a trace of a smile even when he found Juliet. They muttered back and forth to themselves, but Carlton's attention was directed elsewhere. He was sure they could forgive him, assuming he could bring Shawn back safe and sound.

"We need to alert the others," he said quietly to Georgio as they lingered in the conference room. "I'll come with the two of you on your patrol. We can head out from there."

"Won't your partner be suspicious?"

"It can't be helped," Carlton said, resigned.

"Are you going to tell her?" Georgio asked, turning his head to look at him. "You said you'd explain. How much-?"

"All of it," he muttered. "I trust O'Hara with my life. And it'd be better than letting her find out on her own."

"You're sure about that."

Without hesitation, "Absolutely."

Georgio nodded, tension easing in his shoulders. "Good." He considered for a moment before nodding again, focus inwardly drawn as he said, "Tell her you'll be on patrol with us tonight. We'll go gear up, talk to the vampires, and then we'll get hunting."

Carlton took the dismissal for what it was and inched out of the conference room, making a beeline for Juliet's desk. Gus was sitting in a chair near, face ashen, exhaustion and fear painting his expression. Carlton wanted to reassure him, but he had no idea how much he knew or what questions it would bring up. It was best not to address the elephant in the room. He'd have Shawn back safe and sound soon enough. He had to keep believing that.

"I'm patrolling with the feds tonight," he said to Juliet. She frowned up at him, crossing her arms and straightening her spine. "It's not up for debate," he added quickly as if it could prevent her from asking questions.

"And that's it? You expect us to just sit to the side and not help?" Her bright eyes narrowed, cutting through him.

"It's dangerous," he said and immediately regretted it. Juliet's expression turned colder still. "O'Hara, you're an excellent officer of the law, but-"

"No 'but's to it, Carlton," she said, voice low.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course you didn't," she said through forced calm.

"You know where Shawn is." Carlton almost jumped out of his skin, having forgotten for a moment that Gus was a part of the conversation too. He turned to look at him to see him standing behind Juliet's desk, lifting his head, expression hard. "And you're not telling us. Or the Chief."

"I can't," he said. He hesitated to admit his helplessness, but he had no other options. There was no other way to explain his current predicament.

"But you could tell the feds."

Juliet's eyes widened, making the connection herself. "They know, but we can't?"

Carlton knew how to handle perps. He knew how to pin them to the ground, how to break them in interrogation and how to extract the information he needed. Carlton knew how to handle danger in many of its forms. Hurt, harm, death – they had never deterred him. They were facts of his life, of his job. But when it came to people, there was no proper procedure. There wasn't the option of ignoring them and plowing through without care of concern. Against his will, they'd made him care.

"It's not a matter of 'can't'," he finally said. "They're better equipped for to deal with this threat. It's a complex situation, and I don't have the time to explain." Trying his hardest not to sound hurt, he reminded Juliet, "I promised you I'd explain when we had time."

"You didn't promise me," Gus said, resolute. As shaken as he was, Carlton could recognize the determination that drove him to protect Shawn, to be there for his best friend even when he was terrified out of his mind. "If you know something the rest of us don't, something that could help him, you can't withhold it."

"Guster," he growled. 

"Nuh-uh," Gus said. "Not happening, not like this." He glanced pointedly away towards the Chief's office, and Carlton's heart sank.

It didn't come out as an order, a gruff command, but as a genuine plea. "Don't." Gus returned his attention to Carlton, gaze even, unyielding. "It'll put Spencer at a greater risk, and so will telling you." That was as much of the truth as he dared to impart. He steeled himself for the disapproval, the distaste, knowing that only one half-truth would work, and knowing the light it would paint him in. "The killer is blackmailing me. I made the mistake of revealing details, and that's why Spencer was taken. I don't want to incite the killer further."

Juliet's eyebrows drew together, peering at him. "He contacted you, and you didn't tell us."

"I told you," he said miserably. "It's complicated."

"But why would he take Shawn of all people?"

Carlton hesitated. Gus's lips drew into a humorless smile as he said, "I can answer that. Shawn and Lassie have been sleeping together."

Juliet looked to him for confirmation, and Carlton sighed heavily. She frowned, head tilting as she demanded, "For how long?"

Time was running too short for an interrogation of his personal life. He practically bristled. "It's not important. Long enough to be noticed."

For a moment, they hated him. He didn't doubt it in the least, could see it in the way their bodies stiffened, eyes narrowed. Juliet pursed her lips. Gus's twisted into a sneer, silently condemning. It was all his fault, and that was a burden he could shoulder. It was the truth even if the details were somewhat skewed. He faced the brunt of it without flinching.

"Lassiter," Alvarez said from over his shoulder. He turned his head to glance at her. "It's time."

He expected some kind of protest, for Gus and Juliet to insist on coming along or another threat to make the information public. When neither of them said a thing, he turned and followed Alvarez and Georgio out of the station. He could mend the damage once this was over, once everyone was safe, and everything got back to normal.

Carlton tried not to think of how much easier it would be once he had Shawn back by his side.

\-----

They swung by their hotel where Carlton stayed in the car, concentrating on the inward space where he could reach out and touch others with merely a thought. It was tempting to engage Angel again, but he knew better. Once could be mere curiosity. More, and he became suspicious.

Instead, he reached out to the feds. There was a black void of nothing around Alvarez, her walls kept carefully in place. But when he reached for Georgio, he found more than he'd bargained for. Practically an open book, inviting Carlton to look deeper into his personal history, into himself.

As tempting as it was, he pulled himself away, opening his eyes and wincing at the brightness of the dying sun. The hours grew perilously short, each leading to the inevitable. He mused that they probably had less time than any of them anticipated. Shawn liked to talk. Regardless of how severe the situation.

He remembered vividly the split second when Drimmer moved, when he'd known Shawn's mouthiness had overstepped his line of patience. When he'd slammed his gun into Shawn's face, and Carlton's still-beating heart had almost stopped out of fear that he might have pulled the trigger.

It didn't comfort him to know that Shawn had gotten out of tighter spots, that he'd been in great danger before. If anything, it made the nerves rise higher. Knowing that Shawn was due for his luck to run out.

He glanced towards the hotel door to see Alvarez and Georgio emerge into the fiery light of the sunset, their guns visible along with replacement ammunition. He could see the outline of a knife on Georgio's leg, but he didn't dare look on Alvarez. Assuming they got out of this alive, he'd have plenty of time to ask about the weapons they'd brought and where, exactly, they'd been concealed.

"Ready?"

"I was ready the moment I knew she had him," he said gruffly.

"Conviction," Alvarez said with a humorless smile. "I like that in a man." The engine turned over with a roar. "Less chance he'll run away."

Georgio turned his head and caught Carlton's eye, grimacing in masculine solidarity.

\-----

By the time they made it to the Sun's Rest, the sky was dark, light pollution painting it grotesque gray. "Jin isn't here," the bartender said, watching the three apparent officers without hiding his distaste. "Or Casey."

"Then call them," Carlton growled. The bartender sneered, and Carlton listened to the distinct lack of heartbeat before his fangs flashed, and he repeated the command in the lowest, commanding registers of his voice. "Call them. Now." Putting as much force behind it as he was able to though it fizzled once it left his body, rendered useless.

Alvarez eyed him meaningfully as the other vampire fished out his phone and quickly dialed out. "Uncalled for."

"We don't have time to make nice with townies."

"That's no excuse for mind control," Georgio said evenly.

"Suggestion," Carlton corrected, though there was no heat behind it. He knew better, but desperation drove him beyond the measures he would normally dare take. By the time the bartender came back sans phone, Carlton felt properly chastised, holding his questions and comments behind the tight press of his lips.

"Casey's on her way," the vampire said.

"We need both of them," Alvarez said, stiffly.

"If you know a way to pull Jin out of wherever he goes to be alone and brood, then, by all means, please share the bounty of knowledge with the rest of us."

"He doesn't carry a phone?"

"Of course not. That'd be convenient. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have paying customers to look after." Carlton pointedly gazed around the mostly-empty room, but the vampire's shoulder was turned up, her attention far from them. 

He followed Alvarez and Georgio outside to wait for Casey's arrival which didn't take as long as he'd feared. Just as he was starting to get jumpy, anxious, he saw two dark figures practically gliding down the sidewalk, standing out to him the way no other in the passing crowds had. He honed in.

"Morrigan called," Casey ventured. "We could only guess by her description that it was you."

Jin tilted his head, eyeing Carlton curiously. "An attempt at brute force?"

Carlton resisted the urge to snarl, to initiate a fight. There was only one thing that mattered right now. "Angel has Shawn." At Jin's confused look, he clarified, "He's my- my friend?" Hated the question mark that appeared without his say so, but he pressed on anyway. "He's important, and she's going to kill him. We need to move now."

"We shouldn't rush in," Jin began.

Carlton's hands tightened into fists, the pressure making his bones ache. "Fine. Allow me to rephrase: I'm going after him. Either you can get reinforcements, come with me, or I'll go charging in alone, and any element of surprise you might've had will be completely ruined."

Jin raised his chin, imperious, "All for a human."

"For any civilian under my protection, I'd do whatever I could. For Shawn Spencer, I'll go to hell and back. Been there once already, not too thrilled about going back, but I _will_."

"And if this jeopardizes everyone alive and undead?"

Carlton set his jaw, forced to consider an exacerbated Angel with nothing to keep her in check. Not that they'd been doing much to hinder her so far either. Weighing his options, he realized how hopeless the situation truly was. With as much conviction as he could muster, he put his metaphorical foot down. "One more night of preparation won't change the outcome."

"One more night, and we could muster our numbers," Jin said, though even through his cold voice, Carlton could hear some hesitation.

"She's had centuries."

There was a long moment of silence, Jin staring at him, searching for weakness while Casey avoided his eyes. Carlton sneered, pushing himself off the building. He hadn't turned to leave before Casey's hand was on him as if she had any right to touch him. He practically bared his teeth, lip curling, but she wasn't deterred. "You're right," she said. "I'll come with you."

He nodded, unwilling to say more. He didn't owe her gratitude for bringing him this far and then deciding to see it through. It was the bare minimum she owed him. "We need to get moving. Do you need to get any equipment or-?"

Casey smiled, flashing her own set of fangs. "Nah. I've got everything I need."

Carlton couldn't resist looking at Jin, giving him one last chance to step in. He met his gaze evenly, mouth shifting into a scowl before he finally spoke, "No." Carlton recoiled. "You can't decide to jeopardize everything for one person. Spencer's human, mortal. Death is inevitable." Carlton's hands curled into fists at his side, eyes cold as he squared his shoulders. "You can't be allowed to ruin everything for his sake."

"And who's going to stop me?"

Jin took a smooth step closer. Opened his mouth to give an answer that Carlton wasn't going to like. Carlton saved them both the trouble, replaced Jin's words with his own fist, the contact breaking his skin, sending Jin reeling back. His fangs appeared out of the blue, and he attacked with all the ferocity Carlton suspected was hidden behind the forced calm.

Carlton responded in kind, body moving with Jin's momentum, slamming him against the wall, his hands bunched in Jin's shirt. With a sneer, Jin brought his hand quickly up, claws digging into his skin, raking over his cheek before his hand was halted, pale fingers encircling the wrist.

"His face is too precious to be leaving marks on it, Jin." He could see the way Casey's fingers crooked tightly into his skin, peeling his hand away. "Both of you, stop it." She leveled a glare up at Carlton and with a quiet huff, he released Jin, letting him settle back on his feet. Backed away a step or two, vindicated by the lack of scolding by the gazes turned harshly towards Jin.

"Let him stay," Carlton spat out with a hateful sneer. "We don't need him."

Georgio corrected him, voice low, "Now is not the time to alienate what few allies we have."

"Speaking of," Alvarez added almost conversationally. "O'Hara and Guster are watching."

"What?" Carlton jerked his head up, immediately searching. He saw Juliet's yellow car parked farther down the street, seemingly empty, but he knew better. "Shit."

"Friends of yours," Jin said, almost accusingly.

"And Shawn's," he said as if that absolved him from blame.

"They know?"

"No," Carlton sighed. Reached into his pocket for his cell. Punched the speed dial for his partner and waited, lips pressed into a thin line, glaring at the car. The moment the line clicked on, he said, "This isn't how I taught you to tail suspects."

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not one street over and using binoculars. Anything else you want to criticize while you're ditching work?"

Carlton's jaw clenched tightly, "I was thinking you should join us."

"Oh. Well, um." And she hung up. Carlton tucked his phone back into his pocket, looking at the rest of them with a deeply-etched grimace. Some rescue mission this was turning out to be. Heard the car doors close, heard the click of Juliet's heels as they walked down the concrete.

Gus met his gaze with a look of deep betrayal. Carlton didn't back down. "I know how this looks."

"Really. That makes it all better."

"Hello," Casey said with a charming smile, sliding between Carlton and Gus. "I'm Casey. The tall one is Jin. I'm assuming you both already know Nita and Elias?" Gus gave a quick nod then lifted his chin. Carlton wasn't surprised – after a lifetime of dealing with Shawn, he had to be immune to other people's bullshit.

"Burton Guster. Pleased to meet you. Now, if you'll excuse me." Returned his attention to Carlton, gaze sharp. Unforgiving. "Maybe you don't have time to spill the whole story. But you can tell us what we need to know, or else the Chief will find out about this."

Carlton stepped forward. "We're past 'tell', Guster." He sneered, teeth clearly seen. Called upon the shift and let it happen without interfering, fangs dropping as he took an intent step forward. "This is what I've been hiding. This is what Spencer knew." Could hear the panicked thunder of Gus's heartbeat, but Juliet's was conspicuously even. He dared to look away, to see her reaction. While she didn't look terrified, she certainly seemed disturbed. He had seen that look before.

"For how long?"

"Between the ninth and tenth recorded deaths," he answered plainly.

"Carlton," he could hear the sympathy in her voice.

He bristled, "Now's not the time." Unintentionally bared his fangs.

Gus reeled in place, but he wasn't alone for long. Juliet stepped close, her hand touching his cheek, pulling his attention reluctantly away from Carlton to her. "He's still Lassiter."

"That doesn't make me feel better," Gus hissed, barely trying to keep his voice down.

"Shawn trusts him," she reminded him.

"Shawn also trusts Despereaux for some unknown reason. He's into danger."

Carlton found himself glaring more at the idea of the art thief than that Shawn might be into the adrenaline rush. He'd seen it, felt it first-hand.

A voice from next to him made Gus jump, turning his wide eyes to Georgio as he slunk forward a few acceptable steps. "If you won't trust your friends, trust us. Nita and I – we're both experts at handling the supernatural. What you're seeing is real. And as for Lassiter – he's been pushing ever since we discovered Spencer was missing to go find him. He'd be out hunting him down right now if we weren't holding him back."

"It's true," Alvarez said when Gus looked her way. Added, thoughtfully, "Gus."

Gus glared at Carlton, eyes narrowed in intense suspicion. Carlton met his gaze for only a moment before he turned his head, looking back to the other four. "We need to go."

"We're coming with you."

"I know," he snipped without looking back at them. Cast a final, disdainful look at Jin before turning his back on him, stalking back towards the feds' rental car. "Whoever's coming along to kill the criminal, get in a car. We're leaving now. Whoever wants to stay, stay." Didn't have the usual amount of rage, the certainty that would've made it easy to condemn anyone who would dare.

Carlton was mildly surprised when he turned around, and everyone seemed to be following.

He'd always fancied himself as a leader, someone people would take up arms for, someone who could lead people into battle the same as his ancestors had. When Shawn had shown up with all his charisma and ability to charm and direct through suggestion, he'd found his own perception of himself shattering. Carlton couldn't be bitter about it now, that the only time he could bring people to arms was in defense of Shawn. So long as it meant he'd have him safe and sound sooner rather than later, he decided he could take the blow to his ego.

He was headed for the driver's seat when a firm hand steered him away. Alvarez looked at him. "It'll be better if you let me drive and tell me where to go."

"What if I can't find it like that?"

"Then you can't find it. We'll try something else. But for now: trust me."

Carlton let himself be redirected. Slid into the passenger seat, closed the door, buckled himself in and closed his eyes, sinking quicker than he'd dared before, practically bottoming out, falling into it. For a moment, he couldn't reach, slamming headfirst into an invisible wall. Alvarez's murmured apology barely registered before it was gone.

"Easy," she reminded him as the engine turned over. "Don't let her know you're looking."

Carlton didn't bother responding. The effort it took to bob out of the murky depths to which he sank in order to make any kind of verbal acknowledgment was simply too great. However, he heeded her advice, pulling back and taking a deep breath before he released, riding out on the wave of it, seeking.

Her darkness had become a familiar presence, and though he didn't shy away, it still caused a great unrest inside of him. Finding her in the void that existed between linked beings wasn't hard, but trying to discern a physical position was draining. He knew instantly that it'd leave him weak, wanting.

Carlton pushed stubbornly in, reaching out, trembling with the pain that lanced through him. He was barely able to speak, growling out, "Left." Felt the car start to move.

He had to hold onto Angel, directing them as best he could. Could do his duty as a magic compass, but he had no idea how successful it was. His breathing came in harsh pulls after long breaks, body trying to use the familiar motions to keep him calm, sane.

There was only so much he could take.

"Pull over," he said when he was finally overwhelmed. The moment he heard Alvarez put the car in park, he was out the door, stumbling to his feet and reeling. He tried to hold onto it, reaching desperately for the threads, but everything came unwound around him, falling to pieces.

"Carlton," Juliet's voice came out of nowhere, pulling him out of the dark. "Carlton, look at me."

When he opened his eyes, her heartbeat raced, fear and concern overwhelming him. He snapped them closed again, reaching out only to find himself blocked off, secluded. Alone. Juliet's hands hesitantly landed on his arms, the rhythm of her heart thrumming through him. He forced them open again, the pain paling in comparison to the blue of her eyes, the smell of peaches in her hair. Signs of familiarity, what he'd come to associate with friendship, safety.

Immediately pulled himself away, looking up and around. They were in a parking lot, Juliet's Beetle and a red motorcycle seating Casey and Jin parked not far away. "I lost them."

"What do you mean you lost them?" Gus stood at the passenger door of Juliet's car, his arms crossed to hide the shaking of his hands. "I can't believe I'm the one who has to say this in this company, but we need to go to the _police_."

He tried to shove them all away in a petty display of power, but Alvarez blocked him, kept him confined to his own body. Searched for answers in the lot, and, not finding any, stormed towards the street. Not near enough to see the street signs, he turned his head, calling over his shoulder, "Where are we?"

Casey parroted off the address, and Carlton tried weakly to recall the relative position.

"We need to get moving," Jin said.

Carlton knew there was more to it. They had to be getting close; proximity was the only explanation for how intense the feedback from Angel had grown. The only explanation he knew of, and his patience was spread too thin to check with Alvarez or Jin for a different answer. Turned to look at Alvarez, breathing out as evenly as he could, growling, "I need to look."

She eyed him, cautious, but with a slow blink, the wall lifted. Carlton's eyes closed, but he was quickly pulled out of it. Casey's red hair came out from beneath her helmet, and her hands were grasping his. "Let me help."

"Can you?" Carlton demanded gruffly.

Casey's lips quirked into a smile. "I'm older than you think, little daddy. Hold on." He saw her eyes close, and his own quickly followed suit.

He fell so quickly, overwhelmed and grasping. Casey's hands tightened on his own, giving him something to connect to, something to keep him from funneling himself totally and completely into the search. He couldn't articulate his gratitude and instead sought, reaching out to find Angel again only to feel ice colder than he'd known chill his veins.

He'd found Angel, but she, in turn, had found him.

A satisfied purr rolled, and for a moment, he saw flashes of too-pale skin, feeling it soft beneath his fingers as they brushed against the grain of his stubble. " _He is such a pretty pet_."

Carlton felt his lip curl in a sneer, a snarl in his throat. Feels the tension in him snap tighter, choking him at the sound of a familiar voice, weak and breaking. " _Lassie, come home_."

He released Casey's hands instantly, backing away from her, flinching from someone else as they grabbed him.

Gus whirled him around, clasped his shoulders tightly. "Lassie." 

Carlton was faintly aware of his warmth, of the quick pounding of Gus's heart. Recentered himself by thinking of Shawn, breathed out, "He's- he's alive." Gus's fingers pressed in tighter. "He's- they-"

"Carlton," Juliet's voice ventured.

"They're at my apartment."

Gus blinked, slow, contemplative. "How sure are you?"

Carlton's eyes fell away. "He said: 'Lassie come home'."

"You talked to him?"

Carlton shook his head, "She passed the message along. Which probably means she knows. She's ready for us." Sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "She's waiting."

"We should wait," Jin said almost instantly. "Without the element of surprise-"

"No," Carlton interrupted. "I won't leave him with her."

Several around the group exchanged looks, but no one argued. Instead, Alvarez said, "I might have a plan."

He nodded stiffly, listening though his mind lingered on Shawn, alone and held captive by something stronger than he'd ever faced before.


	12. Chapter 12

He ascended the stairs to his apartment alone, each step sounding hollow to his ears, punctuated by the heartbeats he could hear through the walls. People living their lives in blissful ignorance; laughing, crying, going through their day-to-day adventures, oblivious to the true horrors that lurked in the dark, waiting for the chance to ruin everything.

The others were left behind in a necessary concession. The last thing any of them wanted was for Angel to feel that he presented a legitimate threat. Even knowing backup was nearby, he hated going in alone, hated feeling helpless and weak in the face of an enemy superior to him. It wasn't often that he felt out of his depth, but those incidents had been increasing as of late. He wasn't happy about it.

The knob to his apartment twisted easily under his hand, and he swung open the door without hesitation.

His living room had been rearranged, his couch turned around and pushed to the wall. Angel sat, knees delicately crossed, on one end, her hand pulling through Shawn's hair from where his head lay in her lap. Carlton allowed his eyes to linger, allowed himself the selfish indulgence of listening to Shawn's heart as it thumped, determined and holding on even in its weakened state. He was almost as pale as Angel, shivering where he was laid out on the couch for her to touch and torment.

"Lassie," he whispered, voice strained.

"Hush, pet," she ordered, dragging her nails against his scalp, brutal. Shawn's mouth opened, gasping, eyes screwing closed before he forced them open again, forced himself to look at Carlton. Angel's voice softly ordered, "Disarm, dearest, or I'll snap his neck." Her hand fell to the back of Shawn's neck, touching him without hesitation, without worry that he would try to get up and run. Shawn swallowed thickly, hands clutching the cushion as a disgusted shudder wracked his spine.

Carlton obeyed, shrugging out of his jacket, letting his holster and gun thunk against the ground behind him. He kicked them to the side for good measure, out of his reach. They wouldn't do him much good anyway.

"Did you think I wouldn't know? That I'd allow you to disobey me and amass an army?" She gave him a stern look. "I gave you the gift of eternity, of power, and you turn around and bite the hand that fed you." She shook her head sadly, eyes drifting down to where Shawn lay on the couch. "I expect gratitude, obedience. You still won't give it to me, will you, my darling?" Her eyes flicked up to him then back down. "Never matter. I know one who will."

He could feel her power pushing against the boundaries of Alvarez's neutralizing force. It might have been enough to stop her had she not fed from Shawn. Instead, he pressed his lips together, breath shuddering before he held it, trying valiantly to rebel. "Speak, pet," she murmured with killing kindness, eyes flashing black. "Or you'll scream." Her fingernails became claws in an instant, trailing across the life-giving veins at Shawn's throat as they had for countless others. "For however long it lasts."

Shawn's resolve wavered for only a moment, but it was enough for her to exert her power. His throat strained around the words, whispered into the air, punctuated by the weak palpitations of his heart: "Thank you, Angel."

She smoothed her thumb through the hair at his temple, murmured, "Good boy."

"Stop it," Carlton said, unable to hide the disgust in his voice.

"Make me." The challenge hung in the air, unanswered as Carlton was overly aware that he couldn't. An unwise, hasty movement now would spell death for Shawn at best. "I thought not." When Carlton didn't respond, she went back to petting Shawn, fondly smirking. "I'm almost impressed that you found an amplifier this quickly and were able to claim him as yours."

"He's not mine," Carlton gritted out. "He doesn't belong to anyone – any person who's known him for longer than five minutes could tell you that."

"Mm," she considered, cocking her head to one side, giving him a knowing smirk. "But he could be. It wouldn't take long, you know; only a few moments in his head, and he would live to serve you."

"And yet you haven't done that," he said coldly. "Why?"

"Think of it as a peace offering, the beginning of a golden age for you and I. I give you a new rebirth and erase this nasty need to rebel against me, and in return, I'll teach you how to turn him into anything you want. He'll be yours for eternity and beyond – isn't that what you want?"

"Lassie," Shawn pleaded, but he didn't have the chance to continue the thought, cut short as Angel silenced him, forced his mouth closed.

"I could make him think that every agony you chose to inflict as an orgasm – until he craved it, begged you to hurt him, to let him bleed for you." She gave a fond smile, ignoring Shawn's attempt at a struggle. "He would make such a pretty slave."

"Or," Carlton said, voice dipping lower. "You let him go."

"Hm? Now, why would I do that?"

His mouth felt dry, hands shaking with a mix of anxiety and rage. "Because then you won't have to 'make' me into anything. I'll do whatever you want without a fight."

"And if I want to rend your mind into mad, babbling tatters?"

He bit his tongue, jaw clenched tight. "Then it's yours to destroy."

"Ah." Her eyes flickered black like the depths of space. "This is clearly a trick. But I am intrigued – do you think I can ruin you before your 'friends' arrive to save you?"

"Send Spencer down to them and I doubt they'll care." It was the truth, the one that had always yawned in the deepest parts of himself, empty and aching with knowledge that he was disposable, forgettable, that when his time came, he wouldn't be missed. His years as an officer had only made him hope that the inevitable would be memorable, that even if he was unliked and unloved, his passing could mean something for the city and her civilians that he had sought to protect.

A casualty of war – he'd accepted himself as one a long time ago, the question was only 'when'. It was almost funny how the 'when' was less of an end and more of the promise of unending nightmares, of acting out her will for an eternity while his truest self prayed for death and the freedom it promised.

"How noble," she said, both derisive and pitying. "Sadly, he's worth too much for me to let him go. An amplifier," Angel gave a pleased smile. "You were made to hunt." Her smirk widened, fangs flashing. "But if you come willingly, maybe we'll let him keep his mind. It would be a shame to rip it apart when it could be so useful."

"Fine," he bit at the word, trying his hardest to keep his fangs from lengthening. A little more restraint, just a little more. He had to ignore the hurt that flared in Shawn's expression. Angel pushed him off her unceremoniously, rising to her feet as he scrambled on the couch, shuddering even more visibly now that she no longer had physical contact with him.

"Oh, my love. You don't mean it," she murmured. "Not that it will matter for too much longer." She lunged at him, faster, stronger than he'd been prepared for. She slammed him into the wall, claws digging into his shoulders to pin him there.

She leaned in with her fangs bared, and Carlton thrust his head forward, slamming it into hers. The pain was a flash, searing through his head, something cracking from the force, the pain immense but bearable. Her grip loosened, and he followed the trajectory his head had started, his body colliding with hers and bringing them both to the floor with a tremendous thump.

The rage he'd kept carefully tamped down exploded. His fangs cut into his own mouth, his claws dug into the flesh beneath his own. Her own tore into his throat, left it gaping, gasping like all of her other victims' before it went still. The minute processes necessitated by mortality stopped on a dime. Breathing, blinking – he needed them no longer, caving to the monster that had been tearing at his skin, demanding payment and satiation since she had first killed him.

He became the predator she'd wanted him to be, and she gave a delighted, rough laugh when he wrapped his own hand around her throat, slamming her to the floor with a feral growl.

"Good," she breathed, hellfire kindling in the voids of her eyes as she bucked up, kicked and twisted to push him away and down, reasserting her dominance.

He could feel the pull of the sync, the enticing allure of that shared headspace, to get one step ahead of her. Carlton forced himself to heel, biding his time for the perfect moment and taking the hits as they came without shying away.

He only had to make this interesting. To keep her distracted. Not to wear her down – she had just fed, she was far older, he would break long before she did. But he had to push himself to that point before allowing himself to fight without holding anything back.

"I hear them," she snarled in his ear, biting in a harsh tease. "I'll just find him again, my darling. Neither of you will ever escape." Pressed her face alongside his, let him feel the wicked curve of her mouth. Laughed again as Gus and Juliet urged Shawn to his feet, giving him support to lean on. He didn't look to see if Shawn looked at him, saw him for what he truly was beneath the layers of repression and self restraint.

He was what he had to be. If he was lucky, it might be enough to save them.

"I'll send you to hunt him down, dearest. Years after he thinks the worst of it is behind him, acting like you've awoken from my power over you. I'll make him trust you, and then I'll-"

Carlton shoved her off of him, punching her before she could come at him again. Felt her teeth crack under the impact before they fitted together and she bit down, tearing into his flesh. He ripped his hand back, curling it into a first as a snarl rumbled in his chest.

"Nothing to say?" she teased, blood staining her lips as she reeled backwards, stumbled to her feet. "Any parting words?"

His voice was a rough growl, the tears in his throat making his words raw. "I'll make you regret every day you've lived past your original expiration date."

She laughed again, a cruel, harsh sound that pierced through his head. He got his feet beneath him, fangs bared as he lunged towards her again. She dodged, twisted away, but he turned with her, took her inevitable hit and gave one of his own, heedless of the pain that clouded his head, pushing it to the side to focus on her and giving as good as he could.

It was easier than he'd ever dreamed to slide into that space where it was only them. Until he wasn't aware of anything happening on the periphery. The first successful block felt like new pain, the doors between them cracking open in spite of Alvarez's effort to keep them closed.

He sneered, engaging with her, locking close, following instinct without question and waiting for the inevitable slip.

Angel wasn't as willing a participant as his practice partners, guarding herself enough to make it difficult, to make sure he bore as many of her marks and as much pain as he could. He tried to subdue her only to have her wriggle easily out of his holds, overpower him, always one necessary step ahead.

So he threw himself headfirst into it, tumbled without caring about his damn apartment, about his furniture, about the life she'd already decided he didn't deserve. The more violent he got, the more exhilaration showed visibly on Angel's face. He didn't care, allowed himself to slide down that slippery slope directly into hell. The coffee table snapped in two, the walls cracking from the force they were both thrown into them. So many things crashed on the floor, shattered and crunched beneath their feet.

He stopped keeping track of the damage. None of it mattered anymore.

The door between them opened, and Carlton brought his hand up, the heel cracking against her jaw. Her head snapped back, a desperate bark of a laugh sounded in the still air.

He went for her throat.

She went for his mind.

Excruciating pain clawed through him from the inside out, searing like fire, cauterizing the seams and tearing them open again. Carlton collapsed against her, teeth bared against her skin, claws tearing at her shoulders, seeking purchase, seeking power.

She brought him to his knees, cradling him against her as she hushed him, her presence turning from unbearable agony to something that soothed, calmed, brought him peace for the first time in his adult life.

He trembled against her, uncertain, overwhelmed, and out of his depth. An apology pushed its way out of his mouth, and he was too weak to fight, too weak to stand against the assault of feigned kindness.

"I know," she murmured gently. "It'll all be easier soon. Angel's here now, my love." Could feel her smile, her approval as warm as the sun. "Let me in. Let me-"

In a single instant, with a loud bang, the connection between them flooded with pain, with hate, with rage. She shrieked and pushed him away, reeling in time to get the second bullet between her eyes. Another bullet blew through her head. And another. Her pretty face was blown to bits as the rest of his service weapon was emptied into her head.

Shawn was shaking, falling to his knees as the trigger clicked beneath his finger.

Angel's body writhed on the floor. He felt her trying to force her way into his head again, seething with rage, demanding that he attack, kill, protect, be good and worthwhile. Awareness slowly filtered into Carlton's aching mind.

She would heal. It would take days or weeks, maybe months before she looked as if this had never happened. It would happen as surely as time ticked onwards, Carlton could feel it in his bones.

His hands shook, uncertainty stilling him, a moment of hesitation, the slightest lack of confidence. She called to him wordlessly, demanded his obedience and help, and the deeply-ingrained instinct to do his duty made him lose one vital moment.

A hand landed on his shoulder. He jumped, turning his eyes upwards, unintentionally baring his fangs. "Enough," Alvarez said smoothly. "We can take it from here. I wouldn't recommend watching. Go out into the hallway; we've blocked off this floor."

His eyes fell traitorously to Angel again.

She needed his help. And he...

"Lassiter," Alvarez said, not warning but firmly.

He forced himself up in a daze, following Gus and Juliet as they led Shawn into the hall, passing by Georgio, Jin, and Casey who were stone-faced, determined. He closed the door behind him, shuddering against it and avoiding everyone else's eyes by closing his own. His brow knit in concentration, arms crossed tightly over his chest as if it would help him block out the inevitable.

He could feel the sickening crunch and hear the cut-off scream inside his head as the four outsiders removed Angel's head from her body.

He was shaking, reeling, the sudden loss hitting him like a train. There was an emptiness he couldn't describe, a disconnect that made him lose sight of himself. His hands scrambled at the wall, his eyes wide and unseeing as he reached into himself, searching for something through the pain that ached all over and within.

"Shawn!" Gus's voice sounded like it came from miles away.

Shawn's hands were much closer, barely warm and touching his face, pulling his head down until they were eye-to-eye. "Lassie?" His voice strained, fingers gnarling against his skin.

Carlton barely resisted the urge to push him away, to run, knowing that Shawn was seeing him for the entirety of what he was now. Mangled and mutilated, as much a monster as what he'd just killed. He sneered, fangs long, the impulse to bite, to attack almost overwhelming the fear that he actually might.

Shawn's arms went around him, his grip weak, his body leaning heavily on him, using Carlton to keep himself standing, to keep himself near. Carlton shuddered again, his hands curling into fists as he took his first tentative breath in minutes.

Slowly, he brought his eyes up, realizing that Gus was standing near, his shoulders squared, his heartbeat thundering, hands clenching at his sides as his muscles stayed tense, as he waited. Carlton didn't have to guess what for. Juliet's gun was in her hands, trembling for the first time since she'd first pulled it on a perp.

Another measured breath, another.

"You came back," he said, an unspoken accusation on his tongue.

"I was almost too late," Shawn said, leaning back enough to look up at him. "I should've come back sooner."

"You could have been-" he hissed.

"So could you," Shawn said, expression unyielding, stern, looking more serious in that moment than Carlton had thought possible.

He hesitated. Tried again, "You could've shot me."

"I didn't."

Carlton couldn't exactly argue. Shawn leaned back in, resting against him though no longer clinging desperately. Carlton took another breath, and the world settled around him, full of cracks and feeling like it could shatter apart with one movement, one action, anything that wasn't supposed to happen.

The door to his apartment opened. "We have to make a lot of phone calls," Alvarez said without missing a beat. Nudged them to the side so she could address everyone present. "Clean this all up, close the case. Get Lassiter some blood so he doesn't look like-" She paused, taking another look over them. Carlton turned his head to watch her as she pursed her lips at Juliet. "Is that necessary?" She nodded to her gun.

Juliet took an unsteady step back before the turmoil wiped from her face. She holstered her weapon and avoided looking at him as she folded her empty hands in front of her.

"Thank you," Alvarez continued. She looked up at Carlton, raising her eyebrows at him. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine," he said gruffly.

"You don't look fine," Georgio observed from behind her. "Neither of you do."

"I _always_ look fine," Shawn said, his attempt at playfulness falling flat as a shiver ran down his spine.

"Right," Alvarez said. "We'll get our people to bring you blood too."

"I'm not-" Shawn said heatedly, peeking out from where he was pressed against Carlton to glare.

"Not the same way," Georgio assured him.

"Lassiter, take Spencer somewhere where he can lay down. You two," she said to Gus and Juliet, "keep an eye on them. We'll send Casey and Jin to help."

"Help? With what?" Gus demanded, still shaking a little.

"I'm assuming Det. O'Hara had a reason to pull her weapon." She looked at him, not smiling, not trying to placate him. "The worst of it should be over. But just in case. All right, Gus?"

He hesitated.

Shawn slowly pulled himself away from Carlton, making his way to his best friend. He leaned in, spoke too quietly for human ears to make out.

Carlton's superior senses, though, heard. "Come on, Gus, I want to go to Lassie's bedroom."

He hissed back, "Are you kidding me? Now's a good time for you to flirt-"

"-it's always a good time-"

"-when you could've just died-"

"-but I _didn't_ and to be perfectly honest, I feel like-"

"-and why didn't you tell-"

"-I'm going to pass out if I don't get to sit somewhere soon, so could we please-"

"- _fine_. But don't think this is over."

"That's fair." He faltered, losing his balance, but Gus was quick to help him right himself, frowning worriedly at his friend's weakness. Shawn stood, turning around as quickly as he dared, smiling wide. "Let's go. And, uh, avoid the living room. Maybe forever."

Carlton avoided all of their eyes as they filed back inside.


	13. Chapter 13

He waited for the feeling to pass, but it didn't. Instead, it persisted, it demanded, it condemned. The apartment was too confining even for the number they'd had coming in, but now it was swarming with feds working on cleaning up, on moving her body, on taking care of Shawn. He would have left to walk somewhere, but he was in no better shape than he was when they'd walked back into what had once been his home.

It wasn't anymore. Even in the turmoil of uncertainty and indecision, he knew that. He could never stay here again.

"You need to eat," Casey informed him as she leaned on the wall next to him, disregarding his attempt to isolate himself. Once they'd gotten Shawn settled and started pumping blood into him, Carlton had left. The smell was too tempting, the need and rage lurking just beneath his skin, waiting for him to succumb again.

He ignored her, winding his shoulders as he crossed his arms, staring at everything and nothing. Saw Casey shrug out of the corner of his eye, tried to close her out when she started to talk. "She was in your head, had been from the moment she turned you. Killing a clan member is always hard, but when it's just the two of you..." she trailed off. "What you're feeling is-"

"You have no idea," he said bluntly, "what I'm feeling."

She gave him a serious look. "You're hurting, but you don't want to be. You killed the bad guy, you saved your friend, saved the day."

It rose in him quickly, spiteful and tasting like bile, "I didn't."

"You did your part, little daddy."

He hadn't, and it rankled within him, made him feel tense, on edge, angry. He had been a distraction, as had been the plan, but when the moment came, he had stopped, he had hesitated. The feds had finished the job because he couldn't.

He snarled, claws cutting into his palms. "Hey," she said, softly, kindly, and there were a set of human nails pressed into his skin, holding onto his arm. She raised her eyebrows at him as he snapped out of his head, looking at her as if just realizing how close she was.

She gave a small squeeze, enough for him to feel the power in her grip. "You need to eat," she reminded him, but there was no psychic push, no force behind her words. Just a reminder.

"I can't," he confessed, unwilling to avert his gaze, to show further weakness when he'd already shown too much.

Casey met his eyes and nodded slowly. "I see. Jin can help."

"Does he have to?"

She gave a small laugh. "He's better at putting people under than I am. Especially ones liable to fight." Patted his arm and then let go. "It'll be okay."

It didn't bring him any comfort except the faint hope that they might not kill another innocent person on top of all of this.

Casey vanished from his side, leaving him to stew in his own misery.

\-----

Georgio was the next to approach him, calm and collected as he nodded in greeting. "Lassiter. It's time."

"What?" He lifted his head, frowning.

"You need to feed. We're gonna take care of you so you can heal up fast enough to make an appearance at the press conference in a few days."

"Press conference? For?"

"We're still ironing out the details, but we have the killer's body, and the killings should stop."

"Should," he repeated, the lingering doubt worrying in the deepest parts of himself.

He kept talking without answering, "Linking them together, creating plausible belief – that's part of our job. We'll take care of it. For now, though, you need to come see Nita." He turned away to walk.

"She found someone?"

Georgio turned his head back, glancing over his shoulder. "She is the someone."

Carlton stared, demanded, "Why didn't she say so earlier?"

"We hadn't made that call." He began walking again, and Carlton chose to keep up even though it meant striding into his living room, into the crime scene he'd been all-too eager to leave behind for good. "Given the circumstances, we feel that it'll be better and safer for everyone involved if you have something keeping you inside your head and keeping everyone else out."

"Won't that keep Jin from-"

"No. Not until you're almost done."

"What then?"

Georgio didn't turn his head to look at him, but he squared his shoulders, said evenly, "You'll stop. Your control is impressive, and if that fails, there will be five of us to make sure it all goes smoothly."

"Five," Carlton repeated, following Georgio's gaze as it went across the room to where Juliet stood, watching the proceedings with the same unreadable expression she'd had since they came into the apartment. She raised her eyes to look at him, pressing her lips together and nodding. He nodded back and averted his gaze, wanting to tell her no, wanting to avoid the inevitable look into the worst part of himself. Shawn knew the way he knew everything. Juliet didn't, not yet, and he didn't know how he could work alongside her for all those long hours if there was pity or disgust in her eyes.

But his right to those boundaries had vanished when he'd made his decision not to tell her. When he'd lied for the sake of himself. He hung back as Georgio approached his own partner, daring to look around the room. It was still an undeniable mess, but the blood was gone, the shards of shattered glass and ceramics swept away.

Saw movement out of the corner of his eye and lifted his head to see Jin speaking to Juliet, his expression as cold as it had been since they'd fought earlier that day.

It felt like weeks ago, months, or longer since they'd created this grisly scene. Time floated by him, raced, meaningless and no longer bothering to keep him up to date.

He could imagine her body where it lay in her final moments, could feel the cold of metal against his throat, the scream of rage and pain echoing in his ears.

"Lassiter," Alvarez called him out of his thoughts. "Let's get this over with; you need to heal up, and I've got work to do."

He tried to ignore the ones who turned their heads to look, who grimaced in sympathy or whose expressions were stony with the knowledge of what he had been and what he was now. He could feel them pricking at him like needles, sinking into his skin, driving him to restlessness even though he scarcely had the energy to spare.

The six of them congregated around his dining room table, a remnant from his failed marriage, covered in dirty coffee mugs, the remains of old cases – scrawled notes that held meaning only to him – and a buildup of yellowing newspapers. He couldn't manage to be embarrassed. His life had been interrupted, had been torn apart, and he hadn't had the decency to clean up. Big deal.

Alvarez sat in one of the chairs, and he scooted the other next to her out. He sat in it carefully, not wanting to move too suddenly, not wanting to cause any alarm. This close, he could practically feel it sliding over his tongue, hot and bursting with life. The desire to lunge at her sickened him as much as the need.

He wished it were Shawn. That they were alone, that they could have dealt with this on their own time without everyone else staring at him, watching him, looming.

He felt caged, claustrophobic. He clenched his teeth, watching intently as Alvarez began rolling up her sleeve, exposing the veins in her arm. Carlton could feel them all staring, waiting, judging his every movement as an act of aggression, as if he weren't behaving and accepting this condescending offering without any form of protest.

"Are you ready?" Alvarez asked, glancing his way though it felt like she looked through him, at the empty chair, or perhaps Jin whom he knew was right over his shoulder.

He'd been willing, cooperative, and he was being treated like dirt. Less than dirt. Like a perp.

A sneer curled on his lips, his hands clutched into futile fists as he stared at nothing, at no one, afraid that they would see into him and know, more than they already knew, that he was losing it.

"Lassiter," Alvarez said.

"Just do it," he gritted out, feeling tension crawl up his spine as a hand landed on the nape of his neck.

That feeling of fog drifted in as Jin pressed into him. Carlton lashed out, trying to protect himself, trying to close himself off before the internal wounds were opened again. He couldn't get his body to move, lethargy setting in before he could really fight, what little energy he had expended into a war he couldn't keep fighting for very long. It was almost embarrassing how quickly he was overwhelmed, how much it _hurt_ , how much he wanted it to stop.

"Get out of my head," he tried to snarl, but his throat was locked closed, his body completely still in spite of his best efforts.

"No," Jin replied simply, and Carlton could feel him prying, looking, pulling forward the too-recent memories that burned when they were touched. Carlton's head twitched, a flinch visible, outside of Jin's control. He could almost see the faces around him, could feel them as they feared him, hated him, but they were quickly lost in the mist until he finally felt like he was alone.

The moments seemed long, empty, devoid of purpose and use. He could feel the second of separation, the snap and shriek echoing through the void, and he wondered if maybe it hadn't been him. Maybe they decided he was too dangerous. Maybe this was what happened to vampires when they died permanently, a consciousness that never ceased, alone for eternity.

This was all part of their jobs, wasn't it? To tie up loose ends. To clean up the mess the monsters made. The vampires wanted peace. The feds wanted the situation under control. He didn't fit in with either of them. A loose cannon, and the thought could have made him laugh if he felt anything other than the emptiness that stretched as far as he could see.

When he came to, he felt warm, the thrum of a heartbeat near to his lips as he pulled away from Alvarez's arm. A heavy blanket landed on his shoulders, and he looked up to see Juliet nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you...?"

"I'm fine, O'Hara," he said, his voice less raw though it still hurt. He averted his eyes as his fingers pulled the blanket closer. "Thank you."

Georgio helped Alvarez to her feet only to get shrugged off as his partner left the room. He gestured to Casey and Jin. Jin initially rolled his eyes, but Casey grabbed his arm and led him out herself, leaving Carlton and Juliet alone.

He wanted to follow them. To find someplace to be useful or somewhere less private to sulk. Being alone with her reminded him of the gun in her hand, of what she'd seen of him.

She finally spoke after long minutes of silence, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't."

"You told Shawn," she reminded him. "Or was that because you were-?"

He'd never responded well to being interrogated, but he owed her answers. "We weren't together."

"I see," she said, her voice cold. "So you told him first, and then you started sleeping together?"

Numbness weighed as heavy on him as the blanket, but beneath it all, indignation began to flare. "I'm sorry if it's inconvenient that Spencer and I," he paused, turned a baleful glare up at her and meeting her own cold gaze without flinching. "It happened after I fed on him; is that what you wanted to know? Are you happy now?"

Juliet grimaced, crossed her arms, and forced her voice to stay quiet when she said, "I don't care about you and Shawn! I mean, I do care, of course I care because you're both my friends and I could've lost you both today – what I want to know is why you told him but not me?" She sat in the seat Alvarez had vacated, her eyes downcast again. "We're supposed to be partners. I- I didn't even-"

Providing comfort had never come easily to him. "You didn't know."

"So why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't."

"But you told Shawn and the feds."

He sighed, defeated, unable to match her energy when he had nothing left. "I told Spencer out of necessity. I thought I was going crazy, and he- I thought he could help me snap out of it." He pulled the blanket tighter around him. "After that, when it sunk it that this was real, that there was no alternative, she brought me to her and made it clear I wasn't to tell anyone else." Flinched from the memory but forced the words out anyway, "She said she'd make me kill."

"The feds?" She pushed though her voice had gentled considerably.

"They found out on their own. We were all looking for answers and happened to run into each other."

"Ah," she breathed softly but asked nothing further. Slowly, the tension eased, the silence welcoming rather than damning though he didn't dare look at her to spoil the illusion. "You shouldn't have had to be alone at all."

He chuckled dryly, "What, were you supposed to guess 'vampire'?" He still couldn't force his eyes up. "You did your job to the best of your abilities. That's the only thing you could have done." Huddled his shoulders, wanting to hold his tongue but knowing that it was impossible, that one of them would have to breach the subject sooner or later. "While I'd rather you didn't tell Karen, I understand if you'd rather have a different partner."

"Carlton," she chided with soft exasperation. "I just said I didn't want you to be alone." She reached out, placing her hands on his where they trembled and pulled the blanket close. "I don't want another partner. I just need to know what we're up against."

"Other than this, I don't know." He slowly raised his eyes, giving her a firm nod. "But the feds will. They can give us a crash course before they leave."

"Sounds like a plan."

She had the grace not to drag the conversation out longer, standing and leaving the room after giving him a solid pat on the shoulder.

He could feel his body trying to mend, the energy from feeding sapped instantly into repairing his body. Without thinking, he tried to reach out only to bump into the barriers imposed on him. His body slouched into a deeper sulk, and Carlton sought the only comfort he knew. He turned his attention towards his kitchen table, unearthing the most recent set of notes from beneath the newspapers about Angel's killings. He had other cases to work on, to think about – not that he could think much, but it would distract him from the loneliness, from the pain.

\-----

He startled awake with a jolt, a growl in his chest as the papers he'd fallen asleep on scattered. The chair next to him scraped across the floor, settled at an angle next to his, and a weak grip pulled his arm around his shoulders.

"Spencer," he hissed quietly. "This isn't a good-"

"Don't be ridiculous," Shawn said sleepily, tucking the blanket around himself and pushing his body needily next to Carlton's. "If they find us in bed, they'll think it was your idea." Considered with a mumble, "Should've brought a pillow."

"Go rest," he tried to insist, his free hand landing on Shawn's arm, grip too tight, too controlling, and he knew it was the wrong thing to do the split second after it happened. Shawn's body went stiff, his breathing shallow and sharp. Carlton pulled it back instantly, flinching away like it burned.

Shawn's heartrate was thumping loud and fast, but he nudged himself against Carlton anyway. "It's okay, Lass – just, please, let me sleep here."

"I should go-"

Shawn grabbed his tattered shirt before he could move, looking at him in the darkness of his apartment, his eyes almost bright as they glimmered. "That would defeat the purpose."

Carlton had known, but it didn't ease his fears. This was still a bad idea given both of their current conditions. Yet, Shawn rested close to him without hesitation, and Carlton found his arms going around him, not confining, not controlling, easily shrugged off if Shawn wanted. After a small, shaky breath, Shawn sighed into his neck.

"Promise me you won't be like her."

"I'll rot in hell first."

That seemed to pacify him for the time being.

Eventually, he supposed Shawn fell asleep. Eventually, he did, too.

\-----

The next death day came and went, the station holding its breath every hour during and after as they sought to find. He knew they shouldn't find anyone, but he still waited, worried, fretting that somehow it still wasn't over. Every second felt like it wheedled under his skin, intimate and agonizing before the numbness settled in and made everything feel distant.

He heard her voice. He heard her scream. In the quiet moments between conversations, between thoughts, between breaths; he couldn't escape.

He didn't sleep. He stayed at work until Karen ordered him to leave, and then he wandered aimlessly, drawn back to the beach where he'd first met Angel. She wasn't there, of course, not that he expected her to be, or wanted her to be.

Carlton didn't know what he wanted or what he was doing.

Time dragged on, every second elaborated and twisted to its fullest extent, and yet it bolted forward, so that one minute he watched the waves rise and curl in the dark, and the next, the sun was coming up.

He had the decency to change before he went back to work. The bullpen was abuzz with news. Someone told him, but it flew in one ear and out the other.


	14. Chapter 14

Georgio was in charge of the press conference. Carlton had to stand in the background, at attention, looking wearied, maybe skeptical, but relieved.

Someone directed a question at him, and he barely processed the words in his head before Georgio swept in, smiling, chattering away pleasantly.

In the end, the only contribution he had was standing before them all, in the glaring lights, dead while all of them lived. "While the means seem to have achieved the desired end, the SBPD always has and always will condemn vigilante justice, and we will be using our resources to track down and reprimand these dangerous blights on our community. Should you have information on any criminal case, inform the authorities rather than taking matters into your own hands. These 'heroes' are lucky they didn't end up next in a long line of deceased connected to this case."

He heard his words played back on the news that night. He walked out of the Sun's Rest and into the night, feeling somehow less alone than when he was surrounded by the relieved and celebrating.

"Lassiter," Jin's voice followed him into the street. "Where are you going?"

"Turn around," he said, voice even and low, "and go back where you came from."

Jin didn't. It didn't exactly surprise him, but it did piss him off. He shouldn't have come here in the first place, shouldn't have drawn attention to himself. Anything he could do to rail against this would only draw more, so he didn't struggle, let the anger seethe out of him slowly as he turned on his feet and began walking away.

"Where are you living?"

"I'm not," he said as if it were obvious. He wasn't living in any sense of the word.

"Where are you going?"

He shrugged stiffly but his inclination to answer for himself dwindled with each passing moment. It wasn't as if Jin cared, anyway. He didn't want or need to hear about the turmoil, about the constant struggle it took to keep himself breathing, calm, human.

Jin caught up to him in a matter of seconds, eyes narrowed as he stepped in front of him. "Tell me."

"Why," Carlton demanded, unable to muster his anger in any meaningful way.

"Because if you don't, I'll think you're going rogue," he sneered, eyes searching Carlton's face.

"I don't believe making you happy is part of my job description, nor is it something I volunteered for." Resisted the urge to shove him aside only because he could feel it clawing at his skin, demanding that he fight, that he assert himself, that he carve out even the most menial of victories for himself to make up for the colossal and continuous fuckups his life had always been. Intended to step around Jin only to have a hand restrain him, pull him back, force Carlton to meet him face to face.

"What about the human?"

He sneered, "That's none of your business."

"I could make it mine," Jin informed him shortly before Carlton's hand shoved against his throat, slammed him into the rough brick of the bar's outer wall.

"You won't go near him," Carlton snarled, baring his fangs in an instant, letting the change happen without restraint, without fear of what it might make him. "Do you understand?"

There was no fear in Jin's expression, no cowardice, no proof that his warning had sunk in at all. Slowly, he nodded, growled, "Glad we cleared that up."

Carlton released him in an instant, fangs shortening to his regular teeth as his breath shuddered in his chest.

Jin rubbed at the ache, looking away, allowing Carlton the benefit of processing his warning with even the smallest amount of privacy. "Don't lose sight of what keeps you human. It will feel like going through the motions. It will feel like a lie. But you have to be willing to believe it, for whatever it's worth, if you don't want to lose yourself forever."

Carlton idly straightened his jacket, smoothed out the wrinkles caused by his sudden outburst.

"The neutralizer and her friend are supposed to come by," Jin said, awkwardly attempting to bridge the gap between them. "It'll be suspicious if you aren't here or if you aren't with him. They'll ask questions none of us have answers to, and they won't like that."

"Why," Carlton asked, "are you trying to help?"

"I was newly-turned once, too," he reminded, finally turning his eyes up to meet Carlton's own. "We all have to learn from somewhere."

Carlton nodded slowly. He began walking back towards the Sun's Rest. Jin didn't follow until long minutes later, and he wasn't alone when he came in. Georgio took his time, getting a read of the room and searching for points of interest, but Alvarez found him quickly and made her way over.

They exchanged idle pleasantries before she went after the same information Jin had requested, albeit subtler. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"My job," he replied easily, knocking back a drink that did nothing to numb him further, that gave him no exhilarating intoxication, that may as well have never passed his lips.

"And then?"

"Until they notice I'm not aging or-"

Alvarez chuckled humorlessly, shaking her head. "I mean when you go home."

"Do we have homes," he wondered under his breath. "We don't need to eat or sleep – I'm sure at least ten people 'live' in the back rooms here."

"You need a place that's yours to go back to."

"May as well be the station," he said, intentionally skirting around the issue, not wanting to answer, not wanting to have to think beyond tonight, beyond tomorrow, his next shift then the one after that for as long as it could sustain him.

Alvarez took a steadying breath, looking out over the congregation of vampires, their clan that he wasn't a part of, that he was cut off from by her presence and by the person who had chosen to kill him. "I talked to Mr. Spencer." He went stiff instantly, his instinct telling him to escape even though he'd done nothing- nothing at all, except exist, except drag Shawn into harm's way by trusting him, by not being strong enough to deal with this on his own. "He assured me that everything was very consensual, often incited on his end. But victims often don't realize that their invitations were due to outside influence."

"I didn't intend to-"

"He wouldn't let us hypnotize him. Agreed readily to everything else. Offered up a few... creative suggestions of his own, but the mere mention of hypnosis visibly scared him." Her voice remained even, as if imparting information that had no special or particular interest. "We promised it wouldn't be invasive, that it wasn't like what vampires do."

Carlton's mouth went dry. "Did you?"

"No," she said. "And neither will you."

"I wasn't going to," he growled.

"I know," Alvarez nodded, unruffled. "You'll be careful with him. You'll protect him."

The urge to fight drained out of him. "No. I should leave him alone."

"Good luck with that. I doubt he'll let you avoid him for long."

"He hasn't sought me out yet," Carlton pointed out.

"Mr. Guster will eventually have to go back to work." She looked up at him, crossing her arms. "He'll come to you if you won't go to him. However you deal with that is your own business, but if you're looking for what's best for either of you, hiding and pushing him away isn't the answer. Suffering alone can be a fate worse than death."

Carlton didn't know what to say, so he didn't speak, gritting his teeth and trying to keep himself from following the spiral of his thoughts.

"When you see him," she continued, "tell him that he and Gus are welcome to come to our supernatural debriefing."

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and promised, his voice soft and low, "I will."

\-----

The night air felt stifling, as condemning as the thoughts that flitted through his head, took root and pulled him back, told him he wasn't good enough, that he shouldn't, that being here was hurting, harming, everything he'd promised he would never do to Shawn from that first infuriating interview and case.

Those promises had been made to himself, but he'd lived by them until the violent impulses stopped, until allowing Shawn in had seemed alarmingly normal.

Nothing was normal now, and he was overly aware of that fact. Rapped quickly at Shawn's door anyway, damning himself further. Hoped maybe Gus was here to serve as a barrier, to turn him away, to remind him that he couldn't be this selfish, this demanding, this needy.

He wasn't that lucky.

Shawn opened the door looking like he hadn't slept since the nap at Carlton's apartment, since Gus woke him up and ushered him out of the door to get some real rest, to assess the damage and take care of his friend. Dark bags dragged under his eyes; his hair lay lifeless and flat against his head. He didn't open the door wider, kept himself back, guarded, sharp eyes steady on Carlton's face.

"Spencer," he started, his voice damnably soft, betraying him before he'd said anything of substance.

When he couldn't follow it up quick enough, Shawn's mouth tilted into a tired smile. "Wow, you came all this way just to say that?" Pulled the door open a little more. "Makes a boy feel special. And a little confused."

"Have you slept at all?" He demanded, tactless and too harsh, but he didn't temper it, didn't apologize.

Shawn didn't flinch. "Too many gentlemen callers. You wouldn't believe how many times I go to bed and get interrupted by someone confessing their undying love to me."

Carlton crossed his arms. "You're right; I wouldn't believe that."

Shawn pressed his lips together, considered before he spoke, "You have to work with me here. I can't carry our banter all by myself, Lassie. I mean, I _can_ , but it's a lot of work. I'm not sure I have a lot of work in me."

"Did you ever?"

"Rude," Shawn declared, eyes falling away, something dark flickering over his face. It was gone by the time he looked back up. "So," he asked, his heartbeat racing in Carlton's ears, "you hungry, or what?"

"No," Carlton said quickly. "God, no."

"That makes one of us." He leaned away, taking a halting step back. "Want to come in?"

"Do you want me to?"

The moment of silence between them was more than enough to tell him what he needed to know. He forced himself to turn away, to walk, but before he got more than a step farther, Shawn's hand was on his arm, tugging him back. Carlton resisted but didn't pull free, letting Shawn turn him when he finally exerted the effort to do it.

Shawn's exhaustion was obvious, the playful attitude dissipating, replaced by something more raw, more real. He took a steadying breath. "I'm going to stuff my face with Cheez-Its, and then I'm going to sleep for maybe six months or ten years or something."

"Congratulations."

"You wanna join me?"

"Do I have to watch?"

"Yes," Shawn said grimly. "You have to count how many I can fit in my mouth at a time and watch me lick the crumbs off my fingers." Carlton grimaced. "I'd actually rather if you didn't. I don't feel like putting out tonight, and I know how watching me chew with my mouth open gets you going."

He shook his head, something like a laugh huffing out of his lungs, fresh air flooding back in. The corner of Shawn's mouth quirked upwards, the smallest smile Carlton had ever seen from him.

"You're disgusting."

"And lonely. And tired. So." Tugged at his arm, and Carlton allowed himself to be led into Shawn's home again.

\-----

Shawn woke up shaking, shrieking, scaring the living daylights out of the undead creature curled up in bed next to him.

Carlton tried to leave, but Shawn's hand shot out and grabbed his arm, a wild look in his eyes, breath shuddering in and out of his chest, uneven, ragged. "Don't go."

When Carlton looked towards the door, contemplative, Shawn's fingers pressed harder into his skin. "Please."

Carlton reluctantly settled back down. Wasn't sure if Shawn ever fell asleep again; he looked exhausted the next day, too, but some of the frantic energy was gone. Maybe once a night was good for Shawn lately. Carlton didn't have the heart to ask.

\-----

The crash course came sooner than either of them were ready for, but the feds had more work, other cases, places to be. They delayed for longer than they should have, even Shawn seemed to know that, though it did little to ease his nerves. He stomped around his apartment aimlessly, trying to rein in something that wanted its head free, wanted control that Shawn didn't want to give.

They sat next to each other on the hotel bed, neatly made and waiting for a few more nights' mess before being handed off to someone else. Shawn's leg bounced next to his, pressed together, harder when something came up that he apparently didn't like.

Gus took notes, diligently typing word-for-word, and Juliet scribbled at a pad of paper, flipping pages and getting the meat of the lesson. Neither he nor Shawn bothered. No one mentioned it, though Georgio gave them both a stern, disapproving look midway through the section about were-creatures.

Carlton had never been this kind of student, the type to neglect their intake of information, but the truth was that the words were falling on deaf ears. He needed to listen; he needed to know, to protect his city, to protect the people he cared about, to ensure that this never happened again. But straining to pay attention, to memorize, to think – it was out of his grasp, too far beyond his limited abilities.

"Any questions," Alvarez prompted at regular intervals, and Carlton's jaw tightened, his eyes falling from the guilt. Not taking advantage of one of the best resources they'd have – it was foolish. It was dangerous. People would get hurt, and there was nothing he could do-

Juliet chimed in, her words sounding garbled. He heard what she said, but comprehending – he couldn't. 

After three consecutive failures, Georgio called for a break, and Carlton hastily excused himself, slipping out into the hallway to catch some more stale air, to feel confined and uneasy and the urge to jump out the second-story window.

"Lassiter," Georgio's voice was calm as he followed after, keeping him from running further. "Look at me."

He didn't shy away from the challenge, meeting his eyes without flinching, without hesitation. Georgio's eyes flicked over his, searching for something that he didn't exactly like. He could feel it gnarling in his chest, constricting him and demanding that he lash out against it.

"Nita doesn't see it," he said, almost conversationally, as if Carlton weren't thinking about shoving him against the wall, full of unnameable rage. "Can't really blame her for it; she's the problem solver, the plan maker, and once the worst is over, we usually clear town ASAP, and by the time we do, she's already thinking about the next problem."

"And you?"

He leaned against the wall, a shrug smoothing over his free shoulder, his eyes still keen on Carlton's face though his body language gave no indication that he was aware of the thoughts that swam around in his head. "When we start training in my family, the first lesson we learn is that it doesn't end when we kill the demon. Their purpose and goal is to sow discord and chaos, to leave agony in their wake. A lot of hunters move on once their hunt is dead because the worst of it is over. There's only so much that we can do for the trauma, only so much we can anticipate and curb, and working this job, moving on has been the hardest lesson to learn."

"You didn't do it that way," he supposed, listing on the edge of the conversation, on the verge being unable to listen to any more.

"Not unless you wanted to be kicked out of the family. What monsters leave behind can be as destructive, as harmful as they are."

"You think I am." There was no heat, no anger, just weary resignation.

"No," Georgio scoffed. "I think you need help that we're not going to be able to give. When we leave, so does Nita's blood, and when it clears your system and the hunger comes back, you'll either fall apart, or you'll stay standing. And either result is going to make you wish you'd had the other."

"She wasn't a demon," he insisted weakly.

"But she _was_ a monster."

"And me?" Carlton asked dully, needing to know the answer and, at the same time, needing to avoid the prognosis and the knowing look and grimace that flickered over Georgio's face.

"A person." Carlton flinched, then, his stomach dropping like a rock in his stomach, nausea and self-loathing coming in waves. But now that he needed it, the ability to detach himself was beyond his grasp, forcing him to stay pinned to this moment, listening to kindness he didn't deserve. "Who faced something you couldn't have been ready for, who came out breathing and _alive_ but not unscathed."

"I'm not alive," he reminded Georgio quietly, damning himself.

"Not in the way you were. But thinking about the others you've met, about McCauley and Lam – would you really say that they're anything else?"

He didn't have to think long, the answer coming to him so easily though he hated it. "No." Being alive meant being active, it meant being a part of the things happening around him, about engaging them and existing when all he'd wanted to do lately was fall off the face of the planet. It was undoubtedly harder than giving up, than giving in.

He'd never really taken the easy options when given a choice.

Carlton blinked at Georgio, feeling some of the fog clear from his head. Georgio smirked, the scar on his lip going pale at the stretch. "When you're ready, we should go back."

He went for the door himself, steady and sure, and when he sat next to Shawn, he felt the beginning stirs of mild irritation at his unrest. He pressed his own leg against Shawn's, and the weight slowed him, brought the tension to a lower level.

The rest of that session was almost a breeze.

\-----

Shawn insisted on stopping to get Starbucks on the way back. He refused to use the drive through, and left the car on his own when Carlton refused to go in. He had a suspicion, but it wasn't until he saw Shawn writing something on a sticky note the barista had given him that he felt like he was certain.

"Giving someone your number in front of the person you're sleeping with?" Carlton asked as Shawn slipped into his car, only earning him the slightest hesitation before he plopped in the seat, handed over Carlton's cup for him to take a sip.

"I had to pass a psychic message along," he said with a flippant wave of his free hand.

"Bullshit." Shawn looked at him, challenging. "They're leaving in a few days. You were leaving Georgio's number for the barista who works in the morning."

A slight smile widened on Shawn's lips. "Didn't think you listened that much to office gossip."

"It's called being a detective."

"I knew about him first," Shawn taunted, almost sounding like himself.

"You have a considerable amount of free time."

"A moderate amount," he corrected easily.

"More than me."

"But what if it was case-relevant, Lassiepants? What if you needed to know that they're going to go on a date tomorrow and get freaky before Mario flies off to his next big adventure?"

"You don't know that." Shawn reclined in his seat, kicking his feet up onto the dashboard and taking a long drink, long enough to make Carlton begin to wonder. "You just alter the odds to work in your favor."

Shawn gave a heavy sigh. "I'm gonna have to start watching what I say around you if you're gonna start listening."

"Why?" Carlton asked, refusing to turn the car on, needing to know. "Why did you give him his number?"

Shawn huffed and looked away, not guilty but something close. They sat in too-long of a silence, until Carlton was almost at the limit of his patience, sorely tempted to just turn the key and go back to Shawn's apartment.

Shawn spoke quietly, "All I've wanted since it happened – other than for it not to have happened, but I know I'm not gonna just wake up and find out this is a bad dream, like, this isn't _Dallas_. It happened, and it's not okay. But I thought it could be, that I would be, if you were here with me. And even though we've been close, there's been a wall. There still is. But I saw more of you tonight than I have since... and I wanted to pay him back for it. For whatever he said to you." He sat his cup in the cup holder, crossing his arms immediately. "Unless he was a jerk, in which case, I'll have to go back in and steal that number back."

Carlton didn't doubt that he would. "He wasn't." He turned the key and let the engine roar to life, clutching the steering wheel and trying to slow down the frantic thoughts in his head. There were so many things he'd done wrong, from the time he'd called Shawn for help until he'd been too late to keep him from getting hurt. Even when he'd failed to kill her for what she'd done to them both. "I'm sor-"

"Don't," Shawn interrupted. "Don't be sorry. Sorry won't change it, and I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to be here, with me, and yell at me for having my feet on your dashboard. It's been like ten minutes and I'm definitely going to leave scuff marks, and I'm not gonna clean them off." Shawn picked up his cup again, taking a long drink.

His fingers tightened on the wheel, teeth grinding together. The weight in his chest settled there for the long haul, knowing that no matter how much he needed to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, to be forgiven for being so damn slow, for not saving Shawn in time to keep Angel from doing whatever she'd done to him – he wouldn't prioritize his own feelings over Shawn's, over the person he'd failed in the first place.

The truth was that he didn't care about his car, about the sterile and uninviting place his apartment had become, about the things that seemed so fleeting and unimportant, things that would, if everyone else was right, go away long before he finally met his end, if he ever did.

But Shawn, mortal as he was, and so frail even though he did his best to hide it – Carlton did care about him. And if Shawn wanted him to play at normality, wanted him to pretend like none of this had happened, then he would. Until it broke him, if it did.

He put the car into reverse and slammed on the gas pedal and then the brake, making Shawn almost spill his drink on himself. He scrambled up, putting his cup into the holder before turning to glare at Carlton. "Hey!"

"Feet off," he growled. "Seatbelt on."

"Could've just asked," Shawn pretended to sulk, clicking his belt on and staring out the window as Carlton pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. His facade only lasted a moment before he leaned forward, turning on the radio and navigating to the nearest pop station he could find.

Shawn sang loudly along, and Carlton rolled his eyes and let it slide.

Playing normal he could do, but fighting Shawn on this wasn't worth the effort. It was better than the long silences, heavy with tension and the things neither of them would say.

\-----

He awoke with Shawn practically wrapped around him, leg thrown over his and morning wood pressing into his hip as he nuzzled closer, sighed in his sleep.

It was the first night Shawn hadn't had a fit or nightmare that had woken him up, too.

He ran his fingers gently through his hair. Murmured, then, what Shawn wouldn't allow when he was awake. "I'm sorry, Spencer." Brushed his lips against his hairline, eyes closed as he listened to the slow, steady thump of Shawn's heart. "For everything."

Shawn, for the first time in his life, offered no comment.


	15. Chapter 15

Their last session came and ended without fanfare – save for Shawn elbowing him and muttering about Georgio's mussed hair and pinkened lips. Carlton had elbowed him back and nodded towards them, indicating that he should listen, but Shawn only grinned and kicked his feet against the bed.

There was no quiz, no final, no grade that they'd been working towards, and he still felt wholly unprepared, but Alvarez reminded him, "The vampires in the city will be able to help you, if you need it. And if they can't, you have my number. Call me, text me – whatever it takes, if it's something important, I'll get back to you ASAP."

"What if it isn't important? What if I want a recommendation of what to order at-"

"-Shawn!" Gus sighed.

"I thought we were all buddies now," he insisted. "And what are buddies for if we can't call them at 2 AM and ask what to get from Taco Bell?"

Gus pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed heavily for effect, but didn't egg Shawn on further. Shawn's grin fell immediately as Georgio spoke, "Spencer, Lassiter, if you'd stay for a minute, there's something we need to talk to you about."

Georgio wasn't at an angle to catch it, but Carlton was. Shawn's expression hardened, his eyebrows drawing together as he bit down on his lip. It was gone by the time he turned around, practically sunny, "Yeah, sure thing, Georgie."

"Don't," he said warningly, and Carlton gave him a sad shake of the head.

"I thought you didn't like being called Mario."

"I don't," he said evenly.

"Would you prefer Elias?" He let Georgio's first name roll off his tongue, soft and smug.

Gus, walking past his best friend, flicked Shawn's ear. Shawn's hand came up and with unerring accuracy pinched Gus. It was starting to get nasty before Alvarez cleared her throat. "We leave in the morning."

"It was wonderful to make your acquaintance," Gus said as he wrenched himself away from Shawn. "If you're ever in town again-?"

"I promise, you'll all know."

"Thank you." Looking down at Shawn, he warned, "Don't get yourself shot."

"I'll do my best," he said insincerely.

Juliet lingered for a moment, looking at the both of them with concern etched onto her delicate features. "We'll be right out," Shawn promised, drawing attention to her while Carlton simply nodded. They'd be fine. Whatever came from this – it couldn't be worse than what they'd already been through.

"Try," she said with a small smile, "not to shoot him."

"Not with witnesses," Carlton said, earning him a back-handed smack-on-the-arm from Shawn and a small laugh from Juliet.

Shawn leaned after her, sighing dreamily, teasing, "Bye, Jules."

"Goodnight, Shawn." She stopped and turned to the feds. "Thank you both."

Shawn shifted closer on the bed as Juliet saw her way out, catching up with Gus as they both walked into the hallway. Carlton didn't move away, let Shawn have comfort in the face of something he emphatically didn't want to deal with.

Alvarez looked at Carlton expectantly, and he listened. They were waiting by the door, listening, and he grimaced. Alvarez sighed. "I figured they wouldn't go far. We'll have to be quiet."

"Is it a secret?" Shawn asked, facing them both with a wide smile plastered on. "I'm not that good about keeping my own secrets to myself – I mean, the whole point of a secret is to tell people, right, so why don't we cut out the middle man-"

"Do you want them to be involved in your relationship?" Alvarez demanded, crossing her arms and watching him evenly.

Shawn hesitated. Deflected, "Relationship? Is Lassie gonna ask me to go steady? Wait, no, don't tell me, I'll have to act surprised when he gives me his class ring and-"

"Spencer," Carlton muttered.

Shawn's mouth clicked closed, his shoulders going taut with the frustration, without the ability to distract. Said, pointedly, "To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure I really want the two of you involved in our 'relationship'."

The implication of air quotes stung, but Carlton didn't dispute them.

"When we leave, Lassiter will, eventually, need to feed again," Alvarez said. "He can find other arrangements – the local clan has good connections with consenting humans. If he were to feed on you-"

"It works out better for all of us," Shawn said, sounding bitter.

"No," Georgio said immediately. "You don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with, this is..." he trailed off, averting his eyes, searching for words that his partner found first.

"This is about a possible eventuality. If you both get to a place where you want to revisit that, if you feel comfortable and safe. A lot of work could be undone because of how the nature of feeding connects the two of you, and how averse you are to being hypnotized."

Shawn wanted to run – Carlton didn't have to be psychic to know, had heard firsthand about all the jobs and the distractions and the many, many ways Shawn had learned to avoid. Carlton waited for the mattress to lose weight, for the sound of a slamming door, for another sharp remark, but there was silence and Shawn's undeniable continued presence.

He allowed himself to look, not to see Shawn vulnerable or upset, but because he had to.

Shawn looked even more exhausted than he'd allowed Carlton to see before; haunted. He avoided meeting anyone's eyes. "What'd you have in mind?"

Alvarez said, "Vampires aren't the only ones that can hypnotize, and feeding off of someone creates a link that works both ways. Most humans don't know how to do it, or only know how to hypnotize through suggestion. They don't know how to reach the power they have, and they don't know how to harness it in their favor."

"You're gonna teach me before you fly out in the morning?" Shawn asked, raising his eyebrows.

"We're going to have you do it here and now."

Shawn's heartbeat picked up in Carlton's ears. "What? How? I'm not ready for him to-" 

"Lassiter," Georgio said patiently, "knows how to open the door without having to feed. Once he does, he can guide you in, and from there, he has to let you take control. It's just a test, so we know that you can."

Carlton shifted uneasily on the bed. He hadn't agreed to do this, hadn't talked about it with anyone, but it was, at least, an idea. His limited experience with hypnosis wasn't making him look forward to having someone else in his head. But remembering what Shawn had said about the wall between them, he gave in, the tension releasing from his body without a struggle. "Lassie," Shawn said, finally turning to look at him, eyes searching lightning-fast over his face. "We don't have to."

He was willing to take the risk, goaded gently, "Chickening out on me, Spencer?"

Shawn's mouth tilted into an uneasy smirk. "Nah, I thought I'd offer you an easy out." His eyes fell away, flicked slowly over to the feds, and he nodded. "Okay. How?"

"Close your eyes," Alvarez instructed, and Carlton felt the weight of her presence lift. Shawn closed his eyes with a small grimace, and Carlton followed suit. "Lassiter, reach out to him. Shawn, be ready for it."

Shawn would know. The realization made him hesitate, made the anxiety crash through him. All of the things he'd tried to hide, the depths of the wounds he'd avoided healing – he wouldn't be able to keep them from Shawn's prying eyes.

"I don't feel anything," Shawn ventured, and Carlton was sure that they had to be staring, that they had to know what a coward he was, how truly weak he could be.

He reached out, tentatively touched against Shawn's mind. He could hear his heartbeat pick up in his chest, could feel the stirs of panic before his own stubborn nature forced him to lock down, to allow Carlton to press in, his own breath catching in his throat as he held the door open.

Shawn hesitated, too.

But Carlton was pulling him, stretching him from his own mind into his. Shawn felt it, processed with a shudder that was equal parts disgust and enjoyment. Carlton understood, made no judgment. Stepped back and swallowed his own negativity to allow Shawn to explore, to make his way through feeling.

Someone on the outside spoke, but neither of them paid attention, too caught up in this moment.

He felt exposed, vulnerable, but unlike his other experience, there was no feeling of voyeurism, like someone was watching the deepest parts of himself and clawing for more, demanding and taking while he sat to the side as a victim, as a tool.

He could, instead, _feel_ Shawn's apprehension, his nervousness, the way he fluttered away from the aches that lingered, the weaknesses in his mind that would, likely, never truly heal. When he hurt, Shawn soothed, pulling him closer with Carlton's own hands, nudging his forehead against his and sharing his breath.

There was a flood of information coming from both directions that he couldn't hope to stifle or stop. He didn't want to, moreover, not even when he saw her again, saw the way she touched him, the way she'd made him beg.

Shawn's fingers curled at his shoulders, and Carlton's followed suit, hauling him close as Shawn sought to bring their bodies together, sought closeness, comfort.

Where the others had made him fear the loss of control, Shawn's presence didn't. It wasn't an invasion by force but a comfortable invited guest. Shawn smiled against his lips, not needing to murmur his gratitude when Carlton could feel it, when the words wouldn't begin to do justice to the stirrings of his dead, unbeating heart.

There was a quick tap on his shoulder, and both bodies turned towards Georgio who looked between the two of them as if trying to ascertain if they had a success. "Say something."

Could feel the unnatural tilt of his mouth. Heard both of their voices, together, "Come play with us, Elias. Forever, and ever, and ever."

Carlton was too amused to stop him, feeling something light and airy in the deepest parts of himself when Shawn seemed more like himself. When he was actually having fun.

Shawn turned their faces towards each other and leaned his own forward, kissing him softly, and Carlton was left abruptly alone, allowed to kiss him back, holding on to the moment until there was a subtle cough that drew them apart.

"That work?" Georgio asked, keeping his tone light as if his skin hadn't darkened considerably due to the flush rising in his cheeks.

"I think so," Shawn said, throwing an arm over Carlton's shoulders and smirking. "We'll have to try some more," his voice dropped, suggestive. "Just to be sure."

"Do it at your own place," Alvarez said, barely attempting to hide her amusement. "I'm glad that works."

They both nodded slowly, Carlton reluctantly pulling his eyes away to look at them.

"And if you need help," Georgio reminded.

"Call you or the local bloodsuckers?" Shawn supplied, still leaning into him now that he could get away with it.

"And try to stay out of trouble," Georgio said, raising his eyebrows at them. Carlton nodded with a grimace.

Shawn only grinned wider. "Will do. For a few more days."

"For the rest of your life," Carlton mumbled under his breath. Shawn shoved him away with an agitated, put-upon sigh.

"Good luck with that, Lassie."

Carlton couldn't help the exasperated look he shot to the federal agents any more than he could help the swell of fondness he had for the decidedly fake psychic bouncing on the bed next to him.

The sense of peace had been hard-won, and he was reluctant to let it go, to move away and onwards to the next test of wills and strength, but he couldn't stay sitting in this hotel room forever. He couldn't force Shawn to live inside a bubble just like Shawn couldn't keep him from doing his best to prevent the worst from happening again.

They had to keep going.

"Come on, Spencer. They have an early flight tomorrow."

"Thanks for the concern," Georgio said insincerely, smirking at him as if he knew where this all was going even if Carlton himself wasn't sure. "We'll have plenty of time to sleep tomorrow on the plane."

"You should sleep pretty good," Shawn said with a suggestive eyebrow waggle before artfully dodging the hand Carlton intended to land on his shoulder. He scampered away with a quick cackle at the realization that dawned on Georgio's face, the stiff glare that aimed itself his way.

"I tried to warn you," Carlton said weakly.

"You're the one who has his hands full," Alvarez reminded him with a soft chuckle as Shawn darted into the hall and began loudly talking to Gus and Juliet who, apparently, hadn't moved very far. "Be careful."

"With him? I wi-"

"No," Alvarez said. "With yourself. With your responsibility, not only to him, but with every human you come in contact with." Held out her hand, and Carlton took it for a quick, firm handshake.

"Things aren't going to go back to normal, are they?"

"For you? Probably not." She shook her head, a small smile tilting on her lips. "Then, with him around, I doubt they were very 'normal' to begin with."

"You're not wrong," he confessed, looking away. He swallowed his pride, stiffening his shoulders. It was harder than it should be, to admit how much he'd needed them to do this, how lost he'd been – he had never liked admitting weakness, and he enjoyed it even less when he had to confess his own failings when it came to his job. Took a deep breath and forced it out, "Thank you. Both of you."

Shook Georgio's hand, too. "Keep us in the loop."

"And," Alvarez considered, "we may come back soon – we'll need to explain some things to Chief Vick."

"And to check in," Georgio added. Grimaced as they released their hands. "We'd stay-"

"If you could," Carlton supplied, not holding it against him. Far from bitter when this made sense, when it was the way things had to be. When they'd finally be left to heal on their own. "The job comes first."

Georgio grimaced, "Unfortunately."

"You could always quit," Alvarez said offhandedly as if she'd said it hundreds of times before.

"And leave you to break in a new rookie? Once was enough."

She laughed. Turned her smile to Carlton before it fell away, her shoulders squaring as she said, "Goodnight, detective. Don't make us come back here for work."

"I'll do my best." Said, firmly, "If you have to, make it quick."

"If we can."

It was a grim reminder of the thing that lurked in the depths, planted by Angel and growing on his own reluctance to reach out for help, gorging on his insecurity, his anger, his damnable weaknesses.

There wasn't much else to say, so he said his last goodbyes and followed the others into the hall and out of the hotel.

\-----

The more time passed, the more he could almost believe that none of it had ever happened. That he had chosen to move in with Shawn, that their relationship had grown slowly over time rather than all at once.

The only thing that remained was the hunger, gnawing away at him again, testing his patience and willpower. But Carlton didn't trust himself to feed yet, to turn himself loose even on a consenting civilian. He delayed going to Jin to be hypnotized until he knew it'd been too long, that he'd be berated for it.

How could he trust them to let him go when it was over? To keep from implanting more of this shit in his head or worse? If they saw how weak he was...

On top of it all, he could tell Shawn was impatient. He wanted to try the hypnosis trick again, but he needed Carlton's assistance to make it work, maybe even needed Carlton to bring it up, and what he'd been through-

Carlton didn't have the guts to try and drag him down again.

\-----

"You're hungry," Juliet observed when he started listing off again, when his focus dulled and he began to slack even slightly in his duties.

"So?" Carlton demanded, gritting his teeth as if he could physically push the monster in him down. "It's not like I'll starve."

"Carlton," she said, warningly, leaning against the edge of his desk. "Don't make me go over your head with this."

"To the Chief?" he asked, barely keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

"To Shawn."

He bit the inside of his lower lip, hands gripping his desk hard. "He doesn't need-"

"I know," she said as gently as possible. "So the other option is?"

He hated being talked down to. Even when he needed it. "To take care of it."

"Right," she reached out to pat his shoulder. "Take a long lunch break."

He rolled his eyes, but he didn't say no.

\-----

Casey was alone by the time he arrived at the bar, having got up the courage to reach out to her, to seek out her presence among the millions that occupied the city. The bubbles had welcomed him, pulled him closer, and it took all of Carlton's willpower not to recoil, to hide.

He had to trust her. His other options were too limited.

"Oh, no," she sighed almost immediately, pushing herself out of the booth she'd been occupying. "Little daddy, tell me you've eaten since...?"

He didn't answer. Didn't dare ask how she knew, how bad he had to look for her to notice immediately. She clicked her tongue, sighed again. "Bad plan. Starvation makes you weaker, more distracted-"

"I know," he growled.

She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it idly, avoiding his eyes and letting him have some measure of privacy. "How many days? Or is it weeks?"

"Weeks. Since they left."

"I see. How long do you have before you have to go back to being Superman?"

He didn't appreciate being made fun of, but she lifted her dark eyes to look at him, holding him with them until he felt compelled to answer. "As long as it takes."

"Good. I'm gonna go make some calls, you're going to sit... somewhere around here and wait until we can get a donor in." Smiled at him, as warm and friendly as she could be while also leaving no room for doubt that he'd better obey. A chill ran down his spine, but he nodded reluctantly.

He sat stiffly in one of the booths as she disappeared into the back, unconsciously listening for the inevitable sound of an approaching heartbeat and hoping that, between the two of them, he might be able to do this without hurting anyone.

It felt like an obnoxiously long time before he heard the approach of a heartbeat, thumping fast, loud, and Carlton reached out only to jolt forward in his seat with a snarled, "No," as Shawn opened the door to the bar.

"Leave," he instructed and felt immediately foolish when Shawn didn't. Of course he wouldn't – when had Shawn ever listened to him? Even when it had mattered, even when it was to save his own hide-

Shawn closed the door behind him, said with a voice that jittered slightly – and god did that worry him, did it enrage him, did it make him want to break down the door to the backroom and demand an answer for this – "Heya, Lassie."

"McCauley," he yelled, striding towards the door only to have Shawn run to his side and grab him.

He fought off the urge to shrug him off, to push him away, drawn to the warmth and hating it in equal measure and knowing Shawn wouldn't forgive him for using his supernatural strength against him. "Spencer, let go of-"

"I agreed to come."

"She shouldn't have contacted you in the first place!"

"Well, you didn't do it," Shawn pointed out bluntly. There was no malice, no hatred or disappointment, just a simple statement of fact, but it still rankled, still hurt.

"I need to eat," he explained weakly, curling his captured hand into a fist, tugging gently and almost expecting Shawn to let him go. Wasn't horribly surprised when he didn't, when his hand stayed firm.

"She said she'd call a donor, too."

"Then why are you here?"

Shawn looked away with a frown before he turned his eyes back up to him, determination set firmly in his expression. "Am I just lunch to you, Lass?"

Exasperated, he said, "Of course you're not!"

"Then why wouldn't I be here?" Searched his face for an answer which Carlton didn't easily have.

"You don't have to be," he pointed out.

"That's what you think," Shawn said, forcing a small smile. He loosened his grip, trusting Carlton not to pull himself away. It was so tempting, with Shawn so close, the madness of starvation testing his already-frayed willpower. He reluctantly let Shawn pull him towards a table and chairs, sitting down next to him, every muscle rigid as he held himself still. Shawn's fingers curled around his, laced on top of the table.

They sat like that, Shawn's heart racing, his pulse thumping under Carlton's fingers, and this was so dangerous. This was such a bad idea, and if he hurt Shawn, he'd never-

"I want to help."

Carlton's head shot up, his eyes wide.

"They did, right?" Wetted his mouth, forced himself through his anxiety, eyes cutting nervously to Carlton. "They helped you eat."

"You don't have to."

"I want to."

He shook his head slowly. "You really don't want to be inside my head right now, Spencer."

"I guarantee I've seen worse," Shawn replied with an attempt at levity that failed so badly it successfully brought his mood lower.

Carlton looked away, gritting his teeth against the wave of anger, the hurt, the remaining desire for vengeance against someone he could no longer fight. The words fell out of his mouth, weakened by fatigue and hunger, "I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Shawn said, his own voice soft.

"You can't know that."

"I trust you."

"This isn't a matter of tr-" Shawn's hand tightened on his, pulling him near, silencing him with a warm kiss, and Carlton was weak to this, too, after spending so long drawing away from physical contact, from the allure it had.

"You," Shawn breathed against his lips, conviction hardening his voice, "will not hurt me. I know that."

Carlton took a shaky breath and kissed him again for good measure before drawing away, the stirrings of unease and worry pushed to the background where they would eventually wither and die.

They were still holding hands when the donor came in, talking quietly about everything and nothing like this wouldn't be one of the hardest things both of them would have to do.

The donor looked like someone with a respectable job, put together, and in control. His eyes riveted on Carlton immediately, hungrily raking over him, heart ticking up a beat. Carlton resisted the urge to sneer at him as he approached, unashamed and apparently unafraid.

"You need what I got?" he asked with a smile, tilting his head up, showing off, and it was like he didn't even see Shawn in the chair next to him, hand clutching tightly at Carlton's as if he'd just realized that he wasn't the only person in the world who might have a kink for this.

"He sure does," Casey called out from behind the bar, leaning over with an easy smile, distracting Carlton from the anger that clawed beneath his skin. "Thanks for coming over so quickly."

"Always a pleasure," the man said, turning to look back at Carlton who, reluctantly, pulled his hand from Shawn's, bringing his own hand up and tapping his wrist.

"If we're doing this, roll up your sleeve."

"No," the man said coolly.

Shawn's arms were around his shoulders in an instant, head nuzzling against Carlton's possessively. "You could always leave," Shawn said pleasantly. "And we could ask our super best friend Casey to never call you back here again."

He hesitated. Carlton shouldn't have been so surprised by how quickly Shawn adapted, how easily he turned the situation to their favor, but here he was. The man looked at him again, and Carlton nodded. "No necks."

For final confirmation, he looked to the bar, and Casey shrugged. "His fangs, his rules."

The donor, clearly unhappy, began rolling up his sleeve. Casey shot a look at Carlton, and he nodded minutely to Shawn. A questioning look crossed her face, but then Shawn answered all of her questions on his own. "You wanna let me in now or-?"

"Now," Carlton answered, still reluctant, so nervous, but what other option did he have? Tell Shawn 'no'?

He turned away from the stranger to face his- God, could he even use the word? Boyfriend – it didn't carry the weight it needed, didn't imply the depths that they'd swam through together, the things that had allowed them to come out on the other side, strong and fragile in equal measure. Partner – it implied too much commitment, a depth to their relationship that might exist, but it wasn't- they hadn't agreed on-

Shawn took his hands.

Partners. They were partners. Not in the same sense that he and Juliet were partners, or in the way that Gus and Shawn undoubtedly were.

Carlton closed his eyes and reached between them, tentatively cracking the door open. He pulled Shawn in, letting his presence fill his mind, comforting, familiar, controlling through suggestion rather than outright force. Their breathing synced up, Shawn continuing to hold their hands together, and Carlton could feel the fondness he had, the comfort he took in this. The worry he felt when he became aware of how hungry Carlton was, how he'd starved himself to avoid burdening anyone with this.

"Lassie," they sighed together, chiding.

Carlton slowly exerted his own will to turn to face the donor, who was sitting down, watching them with caution, with curiosity. Carlton's kneejerk reaction was to defend Shawn, to protect him, and he could feel the warmth of Shawn's approval even as he assured him there was no need.

His hunger was so great, and the expected anxiety rose like the tide, but instead of crashing into him, there was Shawn. Shawn promising that this would be fine. Shawn reaching out to take the donor's hand, bringing his wrist close and showing Carlton how strong they could both be when the temptation arose and they could both resist.

"Ready?" Shawn asked, practically against his skin, and they could feel his pulse jump.

"Yes," he breathed, and Shawn fumbled momentarily, having had absolutely no internal experience with vampirism. Carlton chuckled and gently tugged the reins, letting him feel how his fangs grew, how he could find the vein now without a single mistake or misstep.

The donor's blood tasted like heaven. He drew it out carefully, easily, succumbing to the need that he'd denied, the things he'd pushed down. He could feel the psychic link form between them as his own body warmed. The donor was aroused, and Carlton had expected that, but not the effect it might have on him, the way it made him want. There was a sudden spike of jealousy from Shawn, a flare of possession that sent a different fission of want down his spine. The donor moaned, and Carlton's fangs broke free of his flesh.

He wondered if Shawn could taste it, if it tasted like the life it gave him or like what it really was. Did Shawn suffer through it for him? Did Shawn suffer...?

Images flashed lightning-fast through his mind, of fingers trailing possessively over skin, of fangs sinking into his flesh, of words falling out of his mouth until they lost their meaning, until it was _please no_ or _please yes_ and not being able to tell where his words ended and hers began.

The connection between them severed. Carlton turned slowly to face him, to find Shawn's eyes wide, his breaths coming in quick bursts, heart racing as his gaze fluttered over everything and nothing, unable to comprehend that what he'd gone through was already over.

Carlton's hands flew to his only to have them jerked away, Shawn scrambling to his feet as his chair clattered to the floor. The noise made him jump, eyes honing in on the chair.

He needed his help.

Carlton got to his feet quickly, taking advantage of Shawn's distraction to gather him up in his arms. Shawn thrashed, breathing harshly, but didn't wrench himself free. Didn't punch or bite or fight... because _she_ wouldn't have tolerated that kind of behavior from her captive.

He didn't know what to do. But noise had broken the spell for a moment, so Carlton began to murmur, practically chanting, "Spencer, it's over. It's okay. I promise, just listen to me, just listen. Shawn, please." Following the rhythm, an inane pattern, anything to help him snap out of it.

There was no great moment where the episode shattered and Shawn came back to the present. Rather, he relaxed slightly, breathing evening out, slowly assessing and taking in that this was the present, that what he'd gone through had been weeks ago, that they were on the other side.

His fingers gnarled in Carlton's clothes, hauling him closer, and Carlton could feel hot tears seep through his clothes. "F-fuck," Shawn gasped, something like a sob hitching in his voice and Carlton tucked his head in, holding him as tightly as he dared.

Casey and the donor were on the other side of the room, in a different bar, in a different universe, on a different plane of existence for all Carlton cared.

Shawn swallowed thickly, clinging to him. Whispered, "Sorry," and it broke his heart, shattering it into pieces on the hardwood floor.

Assured him softly, "Nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who-"

"I shouldn't have been-"

"It wasn't your fault. If it weren't for me, if I hadn't called you for help, she never would've targeted you."

Shawn laughed, breathlessly and without humor. "What would have happened to you?"

"I don't care."

"Well, I do."

Carlton shook his head weakly. "You shouldn't. It's my fault. None of this would've happened if it weren't for me."

"You didn't ask for this either."

"But I didn't have to drag you down with me."

"And the rest of it?" Shawn shuddered, and the moment Carlton started to unwind his arms, he clung tighter. "This? Us?"

"No," Carlton sighed softly, rubbing a soothing hand over Shawn's tense back. "Of course not. We're the only good thing that came out of this. Even if it wouldn't have happened, if not for..."

"Woah, hey." Shawn butted his head into his shoulder. "You don't know that." Carlton huffed, and it apparently said enough that he didn't have to. "I was working on it."

"Were you?"

"Uh, yes?" Shawn reluctantly pulled himself away, eyes pink and tear tracts still wet on his cheeks. "Every day for, like, a year? I only stopped when, when she-"

Realization dawned, smashing into him like a brick through a window. "When the killings started."

"You didn't even notice," Shawn murmured, sounding both irritated and fond.

Carlton couldn't exactly argue. He reached up with one hand, cupping Shawn's cheek and wiping away the tear tract with his thumb. "I'm here, now."

"I know." Shawn leaned into his hand. "And I'm here for you. So no more hiding stuff, okay? No more taking on the world alone."

Carlton's fingers fell away, "Asking for help is what started-"

"You're not alone any more." Shawn said firmly. "I'm a part of this now. Me, Gus, Jules. We're a team, and none of us want you to try and do this alone."

He nodded slowly. Sighed, "Fine."

"And if I have to hear from someone else about how my boyfriend needs help, I'll be really super upset, and we're gonna have a big, messy couple fight, and it'll probably be a week before I forgive you."

"You think you can last that long?"

"Do you really want to find out?"

Carlton felt a slight smile tick on his lips. "No. I don't." Leaned in for a kiss before Shawn's hand rose up, pushed him back.

"Uh-uh, blood breath. Toothpaste, mouth wash, and then maybe I'll kiss you."

Carlton wanted to ask if Shawn was okay, if he would be fine until they met up at his apartment later that night, but Shawn seemed stable, his heartbeat had evened out, and he was no longer shaking, crying. Afraid.

For now, he was fine.

Carlton slowly drew away, leaned over to pick up the chair that Shawn had practically thrown to the floor. "I'll see you at home."

"No, you won't. Vick called us in." Smirked at him, "Race you to the station."

Carlton busied himself with the chair. "Loser buys dinner."

"Duh." Shawn slapped him on the back and ran for the door.

Casey was still standing at the bar, busying herself with cleaning. The donor was nowhere to be found. He wanted to thank her for her help, for finding a donor so quickly, for supporting him, even for calling Shawn in because he was suddenly certain that he needed Shawn to be there, and, more importantly, that he wanted Shawn's help.

Settled for a gruff, "Thanks."

"If I don't hear from you in a week, I'll be calling Shawn to find out if you've eaten. Don't let it get that bad again." She nudged a bowl over to the edge of the table, red and green mints all mixed in the bowl. "I'd suggest sucking one of these down to mask the smell until you can clean up."

"I'm allergic to mint," he said stiffly.

"Maybe in life. In death, you're allergic to beheadings and being punished for your hubris."

"I think the living are also 'allergic' to those." Yet he reached out and took a mint, the wrapper crinkling between his fingers.

"Take care, little daddy."

"See you in a week," he conceded finally, turning to leave. The sunlight glared into his eyes the moment he stepped outside, but it was less painful than before. Everything felt better. Everything felt like it might, in the end, be all right.


	16. Epilogue

"It's our anniversary today."

Shawn sounded uncharacteristically nervous, fidgeting restlessly. Carlton slowly rolled himself to face his partner, raising an eyebrow at the way Shawn's heartbeat kicked up a notch, the way his eyes weren't droopy from sleep. Like he'd been awake for hours, like he'd been waiting for Carlton to wake up.

They had agreed on the date of their anniversary – the day at the bar, the first time either of them had used the word 'boyfriend', the first time Shawn had helped him feed, the first step they'd taken together, as partners, down the road to a slow recovery.

This was, in fact, not the right day. Carlton had plans for their anniversary.

"It's not."

"It's _an_ anniversary. And I feel like celebrating."

He sighed softly, tangling his legs with Shawn's, leaning close to murmur, "What'd you have in mind?"

"I want you to feed off of me."

The hazy arousal he'd gathered around him like the warmth of their bed snapped away instantly, as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head. He sat up slowly, peering down at Shawn. "I fed a few days ago," he reminded him gently. Shawn had been there, like he'd been for all of the others, mediating the experience, sharing Carlton's headspace and a bond that was getting easier to form every time they tried.

Shawn sighed, sitting up alongside him and leaning shamelessly against him until Carlton's arm went around him and he supported his weight. "It's just a test run. And since it's today... y'know, I want to try."

"And today is?"

Shawn huffed, mumbled, "The first time you fed from me."

"Do you want to try because it's that anniversary or because you feel obligated to?"

Shawn made a whining groan. "Am I talking to my partner, or my mom?"

"Shawn-"

"I want to," he said. Slowly leaned up to face him, expression determined and heart racing faster. "And this way, this way I put a deadline on myself, so I couldn't chicken out. And like you said, you fed a few days ago, so if- if I need you to stop..."

He nodded dumbly, his mouth feeling dry, anxiety creeping up on him too.

"I mean, we know it works, right?"

"You want to be inside my head when I-?"

"Yes!" Shawn said too quickly, too loudly. Added, "I mean, I want to share that experience with you. And that way, y'know, just in case it gets to be too much, like I said, we know it works. We've tested it a lot. And I trust you."

Carlton nodded, feeling overwhelmed by the importance of this, the time they'd spent leading up to it, and he had honestly thought, had come to terms with, was prepared to go the rest of his life without having this opportunity in front of him again. There were very few things that triggered those memories for Shawn now. At first, lingering touches, any hint of possessiveness – it had made him crumble instantly. Occasionally, on bad days, he couldn't handle them either. Carlton had learned.

But fangs against his skin, blood being taken from him – that had been off-limits. Even thinking about the doctors drawing blood from him had made him go pale, had almost sent him tumbling back into the worst memories he had.

Carlton didn't want to push Shawn to the point of discomfort even to celebrate something that had been monumental to them. But with Shawn offering, with Shawn making the move himself... it was harder to say 'no'.

Shawn was ready for it or was ready to try.

Carlton wouldn't deny him the chance because of his own worries.

"Okay. Do you want to do it here, or-?"

"Here," Shawn said, scooting back down and snuggling into his spot on the bed. "Right here."

Carlton nodded and closed his eyes. The door opened between them, and Carlton's response was an immediate flash of green. Shawn usually responded with something cheeky and unhelpful – blue, purple, pictures of a pineapple or a three-hole puncher. This time, it was simply green. A yellow-tinted green, but green nonetheless.

Carlton reached for his arm and Shawn shook both of their heads. Tilted his own head back, exposing his neck. "Here," he murmured into the still air.

"You're sure?"

Another flash of green.

Carlton took his time, gently kissing the bared skin. Shawn dragged his tongue over the vein – he liked being able to make Carlton do whatever either of them wanted without his Lassie's self-restraint holding them back. His heartbeat raced, pulse fluttering against his lips. Shawn pushed the change before Carlton did, fangs growing against his skin.

Carlton waited, and Shawn gave him another green. He scraped his fangs over his skin, hands curling in the bedding below Shawn, his body coming to cover his boyfriend's. Shawn wasn't giving himself anywhere to run. Was actually putting himself in the best position in case an episode happened, where Carlton could hold him through it, help him ride out the worst of it.

Carlton hummed softly, and Shawn pressed his hips forward into his own, rutting shamelessly even though they were both half-hard at best. Trying, even now, to lighten the mood.

He waited until Shawn gave him another green, and then he allowed his fangs to sink into his flesh.

Shawn's mind went blank, and Carlton was prodding him for a color until Shawn weakly gave him a yellow. Slow down. Give him a moment.

The rush of feeling Shawn had been damming up, that he'd tried to keep hidden, spilled over suddenly, flooding Carlton's mind, and he searched through what was given to him for panic, for fear, for her, but the only memory he could find was of Carlton holding him, secure in his arms, careful and tender and both of them scared that this would mean anything, everything, nothing.

Green. Green. Green.

It flashed through his head, pulsing brightly, insistently, impatiently. Go, go, go, go.

Carlton slowly moved his lips, his tongue, his mouth, pulling blood out, and the first taste of Shawn made his hands curl tighter into the sheets, a shudder crawling up his spine and a feral desire to own and claim seep into his bones.

Green. Green. Green, green, green, greengreengreengreengreen-

It was perfect. Exactly as he remembered. Exactly what he'd been missing, craving, though he had never dared to voice it aloud, never wanted to bring it to Shawn's attention because this moment was never going to come.

He pulled his fangs out only to suck a kiss against Shawn's skin, then another, and another, hips rolling slowly over Shawn's own, feeling the need, the way he was hard from this, the way his head was spinning and he was caught up in hormones and lust and _love_ -

"Love you too," Carlton growled, unprompted, unneeded, the thousandth time he'd said it, and yet it was never enough for him.

Shawn was clawing at his back, trying to haul him closer, trying to press against him, and usually when they played mind games, he preferred to be the one in control, but something about this, about his mental state going into it, about today and this connection made him greedy for being taken care of, doted on, spoiled.

He moaned beneath him, shuddering, a litany of "Lassie, Lassie," escaping both of their lips as Shawn forgot which body belonged to who. They blended together, and Carlton let it happen, let him take over the mouth so long as he could occasionally interrupt with "Shawn", so long as he could kiss his neck, his jaw, as long as Shawn continued to let him rut against him, slow and pleasurable until it felt like both of them might go mad from it.

They came together, and it was all Carlton could do not to collapse on top of his partner. Hooked an arm around him, heedless of sticky underwear as he pulled him close.

Poked questioningly at Shawn, and was immediately answered by a bright green.

Chuckled into his shoulder.

Shawn relaxed into his arms, sighing, pleased. "I feel like I could sleep for forever."

"Did you rest at all last night?"

"I plead the fifth."

"How about this," Carlton murmured, kissing the back of Shawn's neck softly. "We take a quick shower, I make you breakfast, and then you come back to bed until Guster inevitably calls to find out where you are."

"And you?"

"Crimes to solve, criminals to break, a city to save."

"And then?" Shawn prompted sleepily.

"Weekly debriefing with McCauley and Lam, if he decides to show up for it."

"And theeeen?"

"I'm having some kind of premonition – I think the spirits want me to bring home food."

"You've become much more in tune with them, Lass."

Nuzzled his head against the back of Shawn's, unable to fight off a smile at the fuzzy feelings that invaded his chest. He reached his arm around to find Shawn's hand and laced their fingers together and gave himself a few more selfish moments before he got up to face the day.


End file.
